


What a Tangled Web We Weave

by speccygeekgrrl



Series: MST3K Alternate Universes [15]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Accidental Polyamory, Alternate Universe - Mental Health, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autism Spectrum, Bipolar Disorder, Biting, Borderline Personality Disorder, Consent Issues, Cuddle consent, Cuddlefucking, Cuddling is therapy right, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanmix, Friends to Lovers, Group Therapy, Hand Jobs, It totally counts, Max totally isn't manic, Morning Sex, Multi, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Seriously stop saying that he's manic, Tickling, Unreliable Narrator, Voyeurism, Why do people keep telling him he's manic, or they would be if they would just be honest, they are the best thing for each other, throwaway paragraphs that unexpectedly become 6000 word chapters, way too intense sexual encounters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: If your mental health isn't good, it's important to have a solid support system. People with mental health issues tend to befriend each other. And friends who have been through your bullshit before are less likely to let it slide when things start slipping.Three friends who met at an art therapy group do their best to make each other happy—with varying levels of success.





	1. art therapy and bonus cuddle therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another mundane AU that no one asked for on a topic I'm too intimately familiar with! Yeah mental health issues. I feel like borderline Kinga is practically canon anyways, Jonah on the spectrum is not a far reach, and poor bipolar Max gets to deal with the thing I know the best. 
> 
> If I fucked something up, let me know, okay? Bipolar disorder's the only thing in this fic I have personal experience with. I have friends with BPD and on the spectrum so I don't think I did anything egregiously incorrect but I'm open to being corrected if I did something wrong.
> 
> The final chapter is actually the companion fanmix, so go get that playing and come back to read the fic!

Group art therapy wasn't the worst thing she ever had to do. It was annoying that she _had_ to do it, but Kinga could admit that it helped even while she grumbled about the amount of time it took. Honestly, two hours a week wasn't even that bad, and the other people in the group didn't totally suck, and sometimes it was even interesting. She could tell as soon as she walked in that tonight would be one of the interesting nights. Usually she was the first one in besides the therapist, but tonight she'd been beaten there, and the therapist was nowhere to be found yet.

"You look... chipper," she said, sitting down next to Max, who beamed at her.

"I feel great," he said. "You wouldn't believe how much I got done today. I've been awake since 3--"

"PM?"

"No, AM. I got my entire apartment deep cleaned before noon. It was great."

"What'd you do for the other six hours?" He pointed at the table pushed against one wall of the room, which bore several paper plates heaped with baked goods.

"Baked a lot. Wrote some. Got my meds refilled."

"Did you run out?" He had to have. He was clearly on the upswing. He shrugged.

"I might have forgotten about it for a little while."

"What's a little while?"

"I don't know, three or four days? It's fine, I feel fine. I'm doing great."

"If you say so," she said neutrally, and he made a face at her.

"I made those cherry squares you like," he said, and she perked up. "With extra nuts, you said I should try that, right?"

"I did," she said, and he waved toward the table.

"Tell me what you think, then." She went over to investigate, looking over when the door opened again to admit Jonah, who looked the opposite of chipper. His hair was more rumpled than usual, his trademark yellow hoodie was zipped all the way up, and the chewy necklace that usually lay against his chest was more than halfway into his mouth now.

"Are those cookies?" he mumbled around the piece of silicone, coming over next to Kinga to look at what Max had brought. There were cookies, along with the cherry squares, and brownies too.

"Chocolate chip and snickerdoodle," Max said. The necklace fell out of Jonah's mouth and he shot a wide-eyed look at Max.

"On purpose?"

"I pay attention when you talk about the things you like," Max said.

"That's rare," Jonah said, and he picked up a snickerdoodle and inspected it briefly. "Why?"

"I had energy to burn," Max said brightly. "Well? Tell me how they are." Jonah nibbled the edge of the cookie, brow furrowed slightly, and then his expression smoothed and he chomped into it.

"Oh wow."

"Right?" Kinga said, two thirds of the way through a cherry square. "Jeez, Max, if this is what you do when you get manic, you should go off your meds more often."

"I'm not manic," Max said immediately. "I'm fine."

"You're full of shit," Kinga said.

"Your mouth should be more full of baked goods and less full of opinions," Max said, and Jonah choked on his cookie and lapsed into an uncomfortable mixture of laughing and coughing. Kinga patted him on the back and he swatted her hand away.

"Don't touch me," he managed through the coughing, and she rolled her eyes and grabbed a brownie to bring back to her seat next to Max.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot." It took a moment for Jonah to catch his breath, and he grabbed a stack of snickerdoodles and sat across the table from them.

"These are really good," he said. "Thanks."

"No problem," Max said, and he would have said something else if the therapist, Amber, hadn't come in with her big tote box full of art supplies just then.

"Gosh, you're all early," she said, setting the box down next to the table they were sitting at. "Where'd those come from?" she asked, nodding at the baked goods. Max raised one hand a little sheepishly. "There's not drugs in them, are there?"

"Only the brownies," Max said, and Kinga paused mid-chew. "No, of course not, like I would waste good drugs so profligately? They're all wholesome, I promise."

"Don't get my hopes up like that," Kinga said after she swallowed. "That's just cruel. What are we doing today?"

"Watercolors," Amber said, pulling out a big pad of watercolor paper and a dozen little palettes. "We can work our way up to canvases this month."

"Neat," Jonah said, reaching for one of the palettes and opening it to rub a fingertip against the yellow. "Do you still have the calligraphy pens? I have an idea."

"Yeah, of course." Amber dug in the box and came up with a pencil box full of pens that she handed to him. He started picking through them until he found the one he'd used before, easily identified by its thoroughly gnawed cap.

"Is the idea robots?" Kinga asked.

"Jonah's idea is always robots," Max said, but he sounded fond and not critical. "I have an idea too."

"Is your idea robots too?" Jonah asked, and Max laughed (giggled, really) and shook his head.

"I could never come up with robots as cool as yours," he said. "No. It's a different idea. You'll see when I'm done."

There were usually between eight and twelve people at these art therapy sessions; six more people showed up in the next ten minutes, but no one else joined them at their table. Jonah ignored the paint at first, too busy sketching another robot in ink, pausing now and then to pick up the paper and look at it from different angles before resuming his task. Kinga's art usually tended toward the chaotic and tonight was no exception, a random explosion of colorful flecks splattered across her whole paper. Max started with a bloody slash of red bisecting his page that quickly resolved into a sunset, but not before both Kinga and Amber got a little bit worried about him. When Jonah put down the pen to start with the paints, Max picked it up and added a horizon to his sunset, a few shadowy trees and a human silhouette under a very vivid skyscape.

"That's pretty," Kinga said, head propped on one hand as she waited for her art to dry. "Not what I thought you were doing with it."

"What did you think I was doing with it?" Max asked curiously, glancing at her paper when he set down the pen. "And what's yours?"

"Confetti," she said, and he nodded. "And I don't know what I thought you were doing with it. Just not that."

"I thought it was going to be violent," Jonah chimed in, carefully filling in his robot with a cheerful orange hue. "But you're not violent."

"No, I'm not," Max said. "I never have been."

"Not even in art?" Kinga asked.

"Well, sometimes in writing," Max said. "But not usually. And not today. I feel good today." He peered across the table at Jonah's art. "What's this one called?"

"Ummm..." Jonah finished with the orange and put his paintbrush down. "He's M. Waverly."

"What's the M stand for?" Kinga asked.

"It's personal... you'd have to ask him," Jonah said, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I like him," Max said. "He looks friendly."

"He is friendly," Jonah said. "He's shaped like a friend. It's in his design." He took the pen back to sign the corner of his paper while the paint dried, then started chewing on the cap.

"Please don't chew on that," Amber said, coming around to check their table again. Jonah put the pen down and replaced it in his mouth with his necklace. "Thank you. So how'd they turn out, folks?" The three of them held up their paintings. "Oh wow, these are great. Kinga, I love yours, it's so colorful. Max, that's beautiful, it looks really vivid. And Jonah... your robots are super cool, thank you for always sharing them with us!"

"You're welcome," Jonah said, beaming as he looked down at his work. He always made robots, regardless of what type of art they were doing in the session that week, and he sat with Max and Kinga because they had never made fun of his special interest but let him enjoy it and even asked about it sometimes. He'd been really shy about the robots at first, but after nearly a year of attending these group therapy sessions together he didn't try to hide them any more, at least not at their table.

"If you want to tidy up, I think everyone's wrapping up now," Amber said. "Next week we'll still be working with the watercolors, I think by the end of the month everyone should have really gotten the hang of it. Think about what you want to paint next time!" She wandered over to the next table.

"You want to come over and watch a movie or something?" Max asked as they were cleaning up their supplies. "I don't... don't really want to be alone right now."

"I could watch a movie," Kinga said, giving him another long, level look. As helpful as Max tried to be to everyone else, he had a mental block about asking for help, but she could read between the lines given how often she talked between them. He looked back at her, head tilted slightly, and she wondered if 'don't want to be alone' meant 'really shouldn't be left alone'. She had a lot of nights like that. Max had kept her company more than a few times on nights like that. It was the least she could do to repay the favor.

"What movie?" Jonah asked, looking down at his hands and fruitlessly trying to rub the ink off his fingertips. "You don't have very good taste."

"That's harsh," Max said, pouting slightly, but Jonah didn't even look up to catch the expression. "I don't know, I was kind of feeling like Pacific Rim. I could stand to see some kaiju get their asses kicked by giant mechas." _That_ got Jonah's attention, looking up from his stained hands to blink at Max.

"I like that movie," he said, and Max smiled slightly. "I'll come watch it with you."

"Cool," Max said. "Thanks. We can order in dinner, it'll be fun."

"Can we get Chinese?" Kinga asked.

"That works by me... does that work for you, Jonah?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Jonah put his fingertips in his mouth and then scrubbed them against his jeans, frowning at the fainter but still there ink staining them. "I just have to wash my hands first."

"Of course," Max said. "I don't think watercolors will improve the taste of egg rolls." He held up his paint-stained hands and wiggled his fingers, and Jonah smiled and wiggled his too, not quite the happy flapping that he'd only done a couple of times during these group therapy sessions but pretty close. "I can give you a ride home later, too."

"Thanks."

"I can drive him home when we leave, you don't have to go back out," Kinga said, and Jonah shook his head.

"Didn't you get in a car accident within the past month?"

"It was just a fender-bender, the car is fine. I never get into two accidents this close together."

"Just because you haven't doesn't mean you won't," Jonah said. "That's just superstition. And that's not the only car accident you've been in since I met you."

"If you don't feel safe with me, then you don't have to ride with me," she said, but she folded her arms and scowled at him. He put his necklace back into his mouth and looked down at his painting.

"Don't be passive-aggressive," Max said, elbowing her gently. "He doesn't need that from you. It's no trouble to bring you home, Jonah, don't worry about it. I don't like riding with her either."

"Traitor," Kinga said, but Jonah smiled slightly around blue silicone and glanced up at Max very briefly.

"Anyone want another cookie before I wrap up the leftovers?" Max asked, and Jonah liberated the last two snickerdoodles quickly. There wasn't much left at the end of the class, a few cherry squares and two brownies, and he moved it all onto one plate and put plastic wrap on it. They grabbed their art and headed out to the parking lot. Kinga's beat up purple Camry was at the back of the lot, and she left them at Max's black Legacy where he'd parked right near the entrance to the mental health center, muttering under her breath about how she wasn't exactly as terrible a driver as she knew she was.

She'd been in Max's apartment a lot-- it was a very cozy and soothing space, especially compared to her perpetually cluttered place with her noisy neighbors, and she'd spent a few nights on his couch when she couldn't be left alone. It was a little third-floor walkup and she beat them there, leaning on Max's front door until he was there to unlock it.

"How many red lights did you blow to get here first?" he teased, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

"No lights. Couple of signs maybe."

"Kinga..."

" _Max_ ," she sighed back at him.

"Brad! Janet! Dr. Scott! _Rocky!_ " Jonah added, and Kinga cracked up. Max gave Jonah a skeptical look with his laugh.

"And you call _my_ taste bad. Hypocrite."

"It's a classic," Jonah said defensively.

"It's so bad," Max said, and he got the last lock undone and waved them both in. "Make yourselves comfortable. Need a menu or do you know what you want?"

"The usual," Kinga said, kicking off her shoes just inside the door.

"Fried dumplings." Jonah didn't hesitate at all. Max's fat, longhaired calico cat was asleep on the couch, but as soon as she heard Jonah's voice she woke up, looked at the humans, and bolted for the bedroom. Jonah sighed and took her place on the couch. "She still doesn't like me."

"She didn't like me for a really long time," Kinga said.

"She's picky about people," Max said. "Sorry. She was a rescue and the people who had her first weren't very good people."

"She'll warm up to you eventually," Kinga added, settling on the other end of the couch. "Especially if you let her steal a dumpling."

"Don't give my cat a dumpling," Max said. "She's already addicted to people food."

“She’ll like you more if you feed her, just saying,” Kinga said.

“I think that’s true of almost anything,” Jonah said. “At least, I know it works on me.”

“How many more snickerdoodles do I need to give you?” Max asked jokingly, tapping on his phone to order their food as he walked over to the couch. 

“I already like you,” Jonah said. “But you can still give me more cookies, I won’t say no to that.”

"Cookies are no problem… Is it okay if I touch you?" Max asked, and Jonah hesitated a second and then looked up at him.

"Yeah, that's okay." He looked away almost immediately, but that was enough time to catch the look of delight Max got at the acquiescence, and when Max sat down on the couch between them Kinga cuddled up to him from his other side.

"You're comfortable," she told him.

"So you've said before," he said with a laugh, and she leaned into him until he had to lean against Jonah. "Oh, you're comfortable too..."

"I wouldn't call myself comfortable," Jonah said, and Max started to pull away until Jonah put his arm around him. "No, not like that." It was the closest thing to a hug they'd ever shared, and Max sighed happily and let himself settle against Jonah's side. For a second it was just a cozy cuddle puddle, three friends smushed together on a not very large couch, but the mood shifted when Max put his hands on their knees.

"Max," Kinga said, half question and half warning, and he made an inquisitive sound and traced a random shape against her kneecap. "You're manic."

"I'm not manic."

"You're _obviously_ manic."

"Shut up, I'm barely hypomanic, I'm _fine_." She covered his hand on her knee with her own hand.

"If you're not manic, then why are you trying to touch us?"

"What, I'm not allowed to touch my friends?"

"You don't usually touch me," Jonah said, but he didn't sound stressed out about it. He was looking down at Max's hand on his knee with curiosity.

"You don't usually want to be touched," Max said.

"This is heading into risky behavior," Kinga said, and Max looked hurt. "You've kept me from making some bad decisions, I'm just trying to return the favor."

"If you don't want me to touch you, you can just say so," Max said. "You don't have to act like I'm some, some kind of sexed-up predator or something just because I might be on the upswing, you know."

"I would never call you a predator," Kinga said. "You're just... not entirely yourself right now."

"Of course I'm entirely myself right now. I'm certainly not anyone else."

"I don't mind," Jonah said, and they both looked at him. "If you want to keep touching me, I don't mind. I think I like it."

"Really?" Max lit up, moving his hand a little higher on Jonah's leg.

"Don't encourage him to do bad things," Kinga said, and Jonah frowned.

"Why is touching me a bad thing?"

"Touching you isn't bad, the fact that he's manic and getting handsy is bad."

"I'm not manic," Max said for what felt like the dozenth time. "And I'm not getting _handsy_ , jeez. You'd know about getting handsy, how many times have you done that to me?"

"Yeah, and you always stop me when you know I'm just being attention-seeking," she shot back. Well, not always. There'd been that one time... The look he gave her indicated that he hadn't forgotten about that one time either. They were good balances for each other's mental health quirks as long as they weren't slipping out of whack at the same time, but when it lined up like that... with no one to act as the voice of reason, things tended to get a little out of hand. Or in hand, rather, in each other's hands, which had been unexpectedly and frighteningly intense for both of them. They hadn't talked about it afterwards; he'd wanted to but she hadn't, so they didn't, and when he wasn't manic any more he never wanted to talk about what he did while he was.

"Does what I want count for anything?" Jonah asked.

"Of course," Max said.

"I want you to keep touching me, it's interesting." Max perked up, moving his hand back and forth a little, and Jonah got a thoughtful, slightly distant expression, looking down at his hand. "You're gentle. It's nice." Kinga frowned and sat back, watching Jonah pull Max a little closer and press his cheek to curly hair. It was cute and almost innocent, but she knew very well how Max's apparent innocence could flip in a second. Her quiet observation of them didn't even last a minute before her jealousy at being ignored washed over her like a tsunami. She huffed a sigh and cuddled back up to Max's other side, pulling at his free hand until he put it back on her leg, and he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you change your mind?"

"I won't be left out," she said.

"I wouldn't dream of excluding you," he said. Jonah looked at her over Max's head and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"The two of you have been friends a long time," he said.

"Years," Kinga said.

"You haven't known me that long."

"It's been like a year," Max said, and Jonah shook his head.

"Forty-seven weeks."

"That means we've spent almost a hundred hours together just in therapy," Kinga pointed out, and Jonah's eyes widened.

"That's true."

"And we've hung out outside of it."

"Yeah."

"We've known you long enough to be your friends, right?" Max asked, and Jonah hesitated. "...haven't we?"

"My other friends don't do this," Jonah said. "This cuddle stuff. Is this normal?"

"Normal doesn't have a whole lot of significance here," Kinga said.

"It's normal for us, at least," Max added. "It's okay if you're not into it though."

"No, I am," Jonah said quickly. "It's just... kinda new, that's all."

"Nobody cuddles with you?" Kinga asked, and Jonah shook his head. "Well, jeez, if I'd have known that... c'mere, you." She got off the couch and perched herself on the arm of it next to Jonah, leaning in to wrap her arms around his neck. "I'd go legit crazy if I didn't get hugged regularly, I can't even imagine." He went very still and wide-eyed.

"Um..."

"Kinga, seriously, you can't throw him into the deep end like that," Max said. "You're just completely ignoring initial cuddle protocol, how rude."

"Initial cuddle protocol?" Jonah's eyes got wider. "There are rules?"

"There are no rules, he's just being a jerk," Kinga said, but she let up on the embrace and Jonah relaxed when her arms weren’t around his neck any more. "I'm sorry, though, that was a bit much. If I'm too much, just say something, okay?"

"I won't," Jonah said with a shrug. "I don't really know what too much means."

"Too much for you," she amended, and he shrugged again. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm basically always uncomfortable," he said. "But it's fine. Could you just... do that slower next time? That was very sudden."

"But I can do it again,” she said questioningly, and he nodded. “Okay. Cool.” She put her hand on the top of his head and ruffled his hair, and he made a small pleased sound and closed his eyes. 

“Don’t bogart the Jonah,” Max said, reaching up to run his fingers through Jonah’s hair too. Jonah sighed and tipped his head toward Max, and Kinga shot Max a pointed look over Jonah’s head that Max blatantly ignored in favor of getting their friend to make that pleased sound again. He leaned in to press his lips to Jonah’s cheek, and then his phone went off and all three of them startled. “That’ll be the food,” he said, reluctantly getting off the couch to go downstairs and get it. 

“Are you okay with all of this?” Kinga asked Jonah, who wrapped his arms around himself and glanced up at her quickly.

“I think I was brought here under false pretenses,” he said. “I was told there would be kaiju.”

“He’ll put on the movie when he gets back,” she said. “He hates pausing to get food. One really bad night we waited ninety minutes for pizza.We could have watched the whole movie before the pizza got here.” 

“I hate pausing too,” he said. “I don’t like it when movies get interrupted. I don’t watch movies on TV, the commercials make me upset.”

“Advertising in general makes me angry,” Kinga said. “I hate billboards most of all. And radio ads. And TV ads.”

“What about magazine ads?”

“Seven out of ten, hate but not hate the most.”

“Um… movie theater ads?”

“I always walk in late so I miss them,” she said. “It annoys Max because sometimes I make us miss the trailers.”

“But trailers are great,” Jonah said. “That’s awful, you’re awful. I’ll go to movies with him instead.”

“I will fight you,” she said seriously, standing up and lifting her fists. He looked startled, leaning back. When Max came back with their food he stopped in the doorway.

“Uh, what’s going on here?”

“She’s going to fight me,” Jonah said.

“Why?”

“I don’t really know,” Jonah said. “I just said I would go to movies with you so we could see all the trailers.”

“Oh,” Max said, and he came all the way in and put the bag down on the coffee table. “Please don’t fight over that. Anyways you said I have bad taste in movies, didn’t you?”

“I watch bad movies too.” 

“They’re not bad movies,” Max sighed. Kinga grabbed her kung pao shrimp on her way back to her corner of the couch, and Max handed Jonah his dumplings before he went to set up the movie. “This isn’t a bad movie though.”

“It’s not a very good movie,” Kinga said, and Jonah gave her an incredulous look until Max sat down between them and broke the line of sight. “What? It’s kinda hokey.”

“Your mouth should be more full of Chinese food and less full of opinions,” Max said. “Especially wrong opinions.”

“I would take my food and leave if I weren’t concerned about what you’d do to this poor sweet boy in my absence,” she said.

“A, yeah right you would, and B, you’re a jerk.”

“I’m interested in what he’d do to this poor sweet boy in your absence,” Jonah said casually, and Kinga choked. 

“Don’t _encourage_ him when he’s like this,” she said.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Max said.

“Take your meds,” she replied, and he sighed and put his food down and went to take them. It wouldn’t stop the upswing but it might keep him from getting full-blown psychotic manic, which was a state she felt like she’d seen him in enough for a lifetime already. Ideally they’d both keep their streak of staying out of the psych ward running. He was back a moment later, making a face at her as he took his seat again, but they all got caught up in Pacific Rim quickly enough.

By the end of the movie they’d ended up in another cuddle puddle, Kinga was mostly asleep snuggled up against Max’s side, and Max and Jonah were holding hands, Jonah’s hand dwarfing Max’s with their fingers laced together. 

“Would you want to do that?” Jonah asked quietly as the credits rolled. “Get inside someone else’s head like that?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to have to be inside my head,” Max said. “It’s a weird, fucked up place to be. I mean, if I had to do it to save the world, I would, but… I’d feel bad for whoever I got matched up with.”

“What if it was her?” Jonah asked, nodding at Kinga where she was sprawled against Max’s shoulder. Max looked at her, smiling almost wistfully.

“She could handle it,” he said. “I could probably handle her brain, too. We’d make it work.”

“What about me?” Max looked at Jonah, who met his eyes for longer than they’d ever held a gaze before before dropping his to their linked hands.

“I don’t think you’d like it in my head,” Max said. “But you’d probably be really awesome at piloting a Jaeger. Why, would you want to do it?”

“It might be easier,” Jonah said. “If you just knew what I was thinking without me having to try to say it.”

“...is there something you want to say?” 

“If I knew what I was trying to say, I’d just say it,” Jonah said. “I just…” He brought Max’s hand up to the top of his head and Max petted his hair instinctively. “I like it when you touch me. I’d like it if you kept doing it.”

“I can do that,” Max said. He glanced down at Kinga and up at Jonah and did some mental math. “Do you maybe want to go in the bedroom?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“I think I do,” Jonah said. 

“I can bring you home whenever you decide you want to go,” Max said.

“Can I stay if I decide I want to stay?”

“Absolutely yes.”

“As long as my options are open,” Jonah said, and he stood up to let Max lay Kinga out on the couch. She grabbed his shirt, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Goodnight, Kinga,” Max said softly, and she hummed and let go of his shirt. He turned off things as they went-- the TV, the light, the kitchen light-- and lead Jonah into the bedroom, where the cat was curled up on Max’s pillow. 

“She doesn’t like me,” Jonah whispered, and Max put a finger to his lips and then motioned him around the other side of the bed. Very cautiously, Jonah sat on the edge of the bed and then tentatively petted the cat after Max had already started petting her. The cat didn’t even open her eyes, just purred a little louder with the additional pets. Jonah beamed, and Max grinned back at him. 

“I’ll pet you after we pet her,” Max promised, and that was definitely something to look forward to after something that was already pretty excellent in Jonah’s opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a [DVD commentary breakdown](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PGGrDPBYazAR7PxIdk8yy2M1XVYe0zhuuquXnrNLftA/edit?usp=sharing) of this chapter as requested by SylaBub!


	2. that time that they don't talk about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually they counterbalance each other well. But when Max's mania and Kinga's neediness are on the same frequency, neither one of them has the good judgment to prevent an encounter that neither can ever forget and neither will ever speak of again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One throwaway paragraph turned into this. I genuinely think this is one of the most intense scenes I've ever written. Please enjoy.

_are you busy?_ The text was innocuous enough, and the chirp of her phone got Kinga to put down the safety razor she'd been dismantling and pick it up instead.

_**not really what's up** _

_do you want to come over and hang out? I'm lonely and I miss you_ Stay here and continue to do things she knew she shouldn't, or go over there and bother him? Easy decision.

 _ **be right there**_

His timing was good, but his timing was usually good. He had some sort of sixth sense about interrupting her bad ideas. She insisted that he was a little bit psychic and he insisted that her social media use was a crystal clear barometer of her mood and that anyone who paid attention would know as well as he did. She liked her theory better, because the other option just meant that no one gave a fuck except him and thinking that was a direct line into some seriously maladaptive behavior. So: Max was psychic, she was positive, and letting him distract her was almost always a good idea. Plus, his apartment was just a really comfortable place to spend time.

It was a twenty minute drive from her place to his; she usually did it in fifteen because traffic laws were dumb. Most laws were dumb, honestly. Actually, most of the rest of the world was pretty dumb. Including, she thought as she parked outside his apartment, the other people in his apartment building. She sneered at the kids playing out front when one of them bounced his ball at her, swatting it into the parking lot with one hand.

"You're a jerk," the kid said, and she smirked.

"Yes, I am." She trudged up the stairs to the third floor and barely tapped on the door before he pulled it open, beaming at her like she'd brought him a basket of kittens.

"Hi," he said, standing aside to motion her in. "I missed you. It feels like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"I saw you literally three days ago," she said. "You made us friendship bracelets." She held up her right hand to show off the purple and green embroidery floss bracelet around her wrist as she sat down on his couch. "What have you been doing in the past three days to make it feel so long?"

"Uh... a lot of stuff," he said. "Look, look around, notice anything?" She did as she was told, scanning the room, and her brows shot up.

"Having a bit of a fanboy moment?" she laughed. His living room was always full of nerd memorabilia, but suddenly there was a Rebel Alliance banner behind the TV and a whole set of spacecraft lined up in front of it. Things had been moved around, too, art on the walls rearranged, and-- "Where'd the lanterns come from?"

"The grocery store had them in the seasonal section. Weird, right? I like them though." He'd strung up a few sets of string lights decorated with little paper lanterns around each bulb, all the way around the room, and he flipped on the lights even though it was the middle of the afternoon. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"I like them," she said. "So you've been redecorating."

"And cleaning, and throwing shit out, and writing, I've been writing a lot, I've probably written eighty pages the past couple days. That might be why it feels so long."

"What are you writing now?"

"Oh, um, it's just a dumb little thing, it's not--"

"You're writing Star Wars fanfiction again," she guessed, and he giggled. "You goddamn shipper trash. Just tell me you're not writing Reylo."

"I haven’t lost my mind that badly yet," he said, nose wrinkling. "No. Still with the Stormpilot."

"I don't think you can call eighty pages a 'dumb little thing'," she added. "That's like, half a novel."

"Well it's not all one thing. It's, um, well I got carried away with two of them but then there were four shorter ones, I've been filling requests."

"Oh jeez," she laughed. "That's all you needed to say. I know what you've been doing."

"Don't make assumptions!"

"Don't bullshit me," she said. "You kudos whore."

"It's nice to be validated," he said, and flopped onto the couch next to her.

"I validate you."

"Not my writing."

"Act like I don't read everything you post eventually! Asshole."

"You never say anything about it."

"What do you want me to say about it? 'You gave me another cavity with your fluff'? 'I don't think that's anatomically possible'?"

"That was _one scene_."

"Hey, I'm not saying it wasn't hot, I just don't think bodies actually work that way."

"Like you're some sort of expert."

"More of an expert than you, anyways."

"Yeah right," he said, rolling his eyes. "I _highly_ doubt that."

"You're all theory and no practice."

"How dare you," he said, eyes widening, and she smirked. "I don't know where you've been getting your information--"

"Directly from you?"

"--but I have plenty of practice," he went on seamlessly, "and you have no idea how much I don't tell you, literally you don't even know."

"Please, your braggy ass can't keep a secret for two days. You overshare more than anyone I know."

"Not as much as you. Speaking of which... are you okay?"

"Who, me?" She pointed at herself and he nodded. "I'm fine. How're you?"

"Antsy," he said. "I lost focus and I can't seem to get it back. My thoughts have been going all over the place today."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Um... not much," he admitted. "I'm not tired."

"You need to get tired, then."

"Easier said than done."

"Want to go for a run?"

"I'd rather kill myself."

"Max!" She smacked his shoulder and he giggled again.

"What? I'm not suicidal today, it was a joke. But also serious, I'm not going for a run with you."

"You have to do something."

"I don't have to submit to torture," he said.

"Don't you have sleeping pills?"

"Do you know what happened last time I took an Ambien when I felt like this?"

"Oh, was that when you hallucinated the llamas?"

"Yes. Yes it was," he said grimly. "And the llamas told me to do terrible things. And then I was stuck in the psych ward for two weeks after they shot me up with Haldol and I fucking hate what Haldol does to me, like I’m not already overweight enough. And you were the only one who visited me."

"Let's not do that again," she said. "That was bad."

"No kidding."

"When's the last time you picked up?" His brows arched.

"Oh. I forgot that. I saw you three days ago? I picked up on my way home from therapy. But you know I can't write while I'm high."

"You're not writing now," she said. "And if you're not focusing now, you know you probably won't focus until you sleep. And smoking makes you sleepy."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes," she amended, "and if it doesn't make you sleepy it makes you pliable and I'll just drag you outside for a brisk walk or something."

"Pliable," he repeated, nose wrinkling. "I don't think I like that."

"Oh, calm down. I won't make you do anything you really don't want to do." He hesitated, and she pouted at him. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," he said. "But I think we all know that my better judgement is no longer in play."

"Don't be a bitch."

"Right, you're the only one allowed to be." She pinched his side and he squirmed but didn't push her away. "So abusive, I swear."

"I'm not abusive," she said. "I have the best intentions for you."

"Uh-huh."

"Get your weed, nerd. You need to get stoned and then we need to take a nap."

"I think this plan is missing some steps," he said, but he got up to retrieve his stash box from under the TV. His sleeves rode up a little while he was packing the bowl, and she caught his left wrist and pulled the sleeve further up to reveal colorful marker patterns drawn from the base of his hand to the bend of his elbow.

"I thought you said you were fine," she said.

"No, _you_ said you were fine," he shot back. "But I am fine. I didn't do anything." She traced her fingertip along the squigglyblue lines that more or less followed his usually very visible veins, and he shivered. "The sharpies were enough."

"When'd you do this?"

"Right before I texted you," he admitted, and her hand tightened on his wrist before she let go.

"Could you... maybe do mine after we get high?"

"Are you keeping me busy or is it for your benefit?"

"You weren't the only one thinking along those lines right before you texted me," she admitted, and he rolled his eyes and handed her the pipe and lighter.

"So you lied when you said you were fine."

"I thought you were being psychic when you asked me over."

"Nope. Just needy." She didn't tease him, just tucked herself up against his side and passed him back the bowl after she hit it. "I do wish you'd just tell me the truth, you know."

"I usually do," she lied, and he looked appropriately skeptical. They traded the pipe back and forth until it was just ash, and then she studied him. "How do you feel?"

"Not tired," he said. "Here, let's trade places and you can give me your arm." When they got rearranged and he pulled out his markers he just ran his fingertips up and down her forearm for a moment, pulling a shiver out of her. "What do you want? Flowers again?"

"Write something," she said, and he arched a brow at her. "You're a writer... write something."

"You're putting me on the spot," he said, but he was smiling when he selected the purple marker and turned her arm to start writing at the most delicate part of her wrist.

"What are you writing?"

"Something," he said. "Don't look until it's done, you're giving me performance anxiety."

"Does that happen to you a lot?" she teased, and he snorted.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"You seem like a nervous performer."

"You seem like you should shut up."

"Am I hitting too close to home?" The marker left her skin, and when she turned to look at Max he was staring at her a little too intently.

"It sounds like you actually would like to know," he said, and she blinked at him and then leaned in to kiss him, because he wasn't wrong and it wasn't the worst idea she'd ever had involving him. He made a startled sound and gaped for a second before he got with the picture and kissed her back, and... holy shit. She'd kissed him before but not like this. She didn't know he could kiss like this. A whimper escaped her when he caught her lower lip between his teeth and worried it, and she blinked at him again when he pulled back. "I don't," he said.

"You don't--?" Her mind had gone entirely blank from how good that kiss was. She wanted him to do it again.

"I don't get performance anxiety a lot." He turned her arm again and kept writing on her skin, and all she could do was slowly reboot her brain, staring at him as he stared down at what he was writing. A couple of minutes later, he put the cap back on the marker and read over what he'd written, then nodded. "Okay. You can read it."

Kinga didn't know what she expected-- a quote, maybe, or a song lyric. But no, Max had written her... a love letter, _reasons Kinga is amazing_ written across her wrist followed by a heartfelt list of the reasons he loved her written in his neat script right down an arm she couldn't possibly deliberately injure now, not with this reminding her of everything good about herself. She looked up at him, eyes round, and he bit his lip, a little shy and a lot unintentionally hot. "Max..."

"It's all true," he said. "You're good. Too good to hurt yourself again."

"I didn't know you thought all this."

"You are my favorite person, you know. I thought most of it was pretty heavily implied." The way he was looking at her was too much for her to cope with in her current state of mind. She didn't deserve it and she didn't want it to end.

"Kiss me," she demanded, and he didn't hesitate to obey, catching her mouth with a level of passion that their prior kisses hadn't even hinted at. Where he'd been hiding this, she had no idea. Had she just never given him the chance to kiss back before? His hands were very warm, gently cupping her face, and she sighed and put her hand on the back of his neck. Neither of them pulled back when their lips parted, and he nudged the tip of his nose against hers.

"I'd really like to keep doing that," he said. "I've wanted to do it for a while."

"You have?"

"Oh god yeah. The first time you gave me one of those little pecks I wanted to grab you and kiss you for real. And I kind of just... didn't stop wanting to do it."

"Max..." He winced.

"I know, I know, I'm hopeless shipper trash and real life isn't fanfiction."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Oh. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say that you should keep kissing me," she said, trying not to laugh at the way his eyes widened.

"Oh!" He didn't need to be told twice. As many times as she'd made fun of him for being a hopeless romantic, and here she was practically melting in his hands because he was touching her like she was something precious. No one ever touched her gently except him, and now she had to wonder if that meant that no one loved her except him. She really couldn't doubt that he loved her after what he'd written, even if he didn't use the word _love_ anywhere on her arm. He pulled the tie from her ponytail and ran his fingers through her hair, then sighed. "I wanted to do that too," he breathed against her lips.

"What else have you wanted to do?" That got him to sit back, dark eyes studying her for a long moment before he smiled.

"Would you like me to show you?" Oh, that was a dangerous question. But she did want to know. She wanted him to keep looking at her like that. And... well, he was hopeless shipper trash and she _knew_ what an active imagination he had. And if he'd been thinking about this... whatever he'd come up with had to be pretty good.

"Yes. Please." He stood up and offered her a hand to pull her to her feet and into his arms.

"Touching you makes my thoughts slow down," he said in her ear, kissed her cheek, and lead the way into his bedroom. His cat lifted her head where she was curled up on his pillow, caught sight of Kinga, and hissed. "Sheila! No. Bad kitty." When the humans didn't leave, Sheila got up, arched her back and hissed again, and darted out of the room.

"She hates me," Kinga said.

"She hates everyone," Max said. "She still hates me sometimes. I'm working on her." He closed the door and turned around to fix Kinga with a rapt gaze. "You're so beautiful, you know that, right?"

"I'm not a hag," she said, and he shook his head and caught her face between his hands again.

"No. Look, right here..." He skimmed his thumbs across her cheeks. "Your freckles are perfect. Especially during the summer, so many of them show up when you get even a little bit of sun and I just want to kiss every single one of them." She blinked at him and he met her gaze. "And your eyes are the most flawless jade green. There are so many tiny fantastic things about you, and I don't think you know a lot of them, but..." He trailed off, blushing.

"But what?"

"I notice," he said. "I notice so much about you. And I don't want you to think I'm weird or creepy or anything. You're just... fascinating."

"You... you do?" He nodded, and she put her hands on his face the same way and leaned in to kiss him. "That's so gratifying," she said, "you have no idea, Max, you just-- _fuck_!" At a loss for words, she kissed him again, and he gave her a surprised look when the kiss ended.

"It is?"

"Yeah."

"It's a good thing?"

"I fucking hate myself, Max. I'm the worst. If you want to tell me what you love about me, please do. Maybe you can drown out my shitty internal monologue."

"Kinga..." He bit his lip and studied her for a moment. "I can do that. I can always do that. Just tell me when you need me to do it and I will."

"Now would be good." She clasped her hands around his wrists and moved his hands down to her waist. "You can show me what else you wanted to do while you talk."

"I think you are severely overestimating my ability to multitask right now," he said, sliding his hands under her shirt and stroking them up her back. "But I love how much faith you have in me."

"You're very good at catching me before things get too bad." He'd barely rucked up her shirt before she pulled it over her head, and she grinned at the way his eyes widened. "You look like you've never seen boobs before."

"I've never seen perfect ones before," he said instantly. "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world. It would be a pity to damage yours."

"You fucking nerd," she laughed, gasping when he filled his hands with them and rubbed his thumbs against the satin of her bra.

"More freckles," he said, bending his head to press a line of kisses along her shoulder. "You've been sunkissed." He bit gently where her shoulder met her neck and caressed her breasts, drawing a whimper from her. "Oh, you make _good_ sounds."

"Do that again," she said, digging her fingers into his hair. "But harder." He wasn't about to say no to her, even when she pulled his curls too hard. He tried not to leave a mark on her in such a visible place, but then she made that sound again and the slight bit of caution he'd been holding onto evaporated like a gasp when he realized that biting harder made her whimper louder.

"God, you're gorgeous," he breathed as he pressed kisses up her neck, taking her earlobe between his teeth and nibbling gently. "Just so ridiculously beautiful."

"Liar."

"I'm not. You're the best thing I've ever seen. Let me take this off you?" His fingers toyed with the clasp of her bra and she nodded quickly, letting it fall off her arms when he began to draw it off. "I swear you should be an art model. Perfection like this deserves to be immortalized," he breathed, cupping her breasts in both hands, and she shook her head.

" _Such_ a liar."

"I wish I was an artist so I could do it myself. But I'm just a writer."

"Haven't you written about me?" she asked playfully, and he went much more pink than she thought that question warranted. "Ooh, what have you written?"

"Poetry I can never show you."

"Oh, why not?"

"Because I'm a horrible poet."

"Liar, liar, liar. I've seen some of your other poems."

"Because they're incredibly inappropriate and you'd probably be angry at me for writing them."

"You wrote sexy poetry about me," she crowed, a look of absolute delight breaking over her face. "Am I your muse?"

"Yes," he said simply, going a shade darker pink. She licked her lips and smirked at how avidly his gaze followed the motion, then slid her hands up his sides under his shirt.

"Take this off," she demanded.

"I'm not--"

"I want to see how far down your blush goes." He hesitated for a second and she batted her eyes at him. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever you want." He pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop, and she cooed and trailed her fingers down his chest, following the blush all the way down to his solar plexus, vivid on his pale skin.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were shy," she said.

"You do know better though. So what do you think?"

"I think I want to find out if you'll blush this hard the whole time."

"I'm pretty sure I'll need most of that bloodflow diverted eventually," he said, and she tiptoed her fingers down the curve of his belly and caught one finger behind the button of his jeans. "Oh god."

"Now I'm curious," she said, and pressed the heel of her hand against his cock just to see what he'd do. He made a broken, needy sound and wrapped one hand around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away. She scowled, and he pulled her hand up to kiss the back of it.

"Please don't rush me. I still have about a dozen things I want to do to you and as soon as I start letting my dick do the thinking I'll forget half of them."

"You mean it's not already?" she teased.

"Oh no. I have a whole order of operations. And you've got to be joking if you think I'm not going to put my mouth everywhere I've wanted to if you're actually letting me do it."

“Where’s everywhere?” 

“Take off the rest of your clothes and I’ll show you,” he said hopefully, not expecting her to kick her pants off immediately and give him a challenging look. “On the bed, please.” She stretched out and struck a very deliberate pose, and he whimpered. “Please don’t let this be a psychotic break. Please let this be real.”

“Your psychotic breaks are terrifying and awful,” she said, and beckoned him closer with one finger. “And this is hopefully neither.”

“It’s terrifying,” he said, sitting next to her on the bed and trailing one hand up her leg from ankle to hip before his hand slid back to squeeze her butt. “But the exact opposite of awful. You’re flawless, I need to be good enough to deserve this.”

“But you are good,” she said, reaching out to card her fingers through his curls gently. “You’re such a good boy.” He froze with a gasp, and she lit up with a surprised and wicked smile. “You’re a very, very good boy, Max,” she purred, watching him intently, delighted when he closed his eyes and shivered with pleasure. “Now show me what you can do.” All he needed was her permission; he pushed her onto her back and bent to catch one nipple in his mouth, just a hint of teeth electrifying her nerves as he teased it with his tongue. “You can bite,” she said breathlessly. “You _should_ bite.”

“Should I?” She could have spent days trying to unpack his tone of voice, but her mind went blissfully blank when he did as he was told. She dug her fingers into his hair to hold him close as he left an uneven trail of gentle nibbles and harder bites across both breasts, totally unaware of the high-pitched keening noise escaping her when he paused to leave one really good mark on the inner slope of her left breast. He was very aware of it, though, and when he lifted his head his eyes were as avid on her face as a penitent at the knees of his savior. “Do you like that everywhere?” 

“Y-yeah…” He slid a hand down her side, following the dip of her waist and the swell of her hip with reverent fingertips before gently nudging her thighs apart, more of a suggestion than a demand but one she eagerly took. “Oh fuck, Max,” she breathed as he settled himself between her legs and set about leaving another mark on her inner thigh.

“I want to leave marks on you that you can’t just wash away,” he said when he pulled away, thumb brushing over his handiwork and continuing upward until he found her clit, giving her a firm rub. Her legs tried to close around him, and the sound she made was only mostly pleasure. “Sorry, too much?”

“I’m really sensitive.” He tried again, more gently, and her hips arched into his touch. “Oh god.”

“If I do something you don’t like, tell me, please.”

“It’s okay if it’s too much if it’s you,” she said, and he aimed a startled, pleased smile up at her.

“I don’t want it to be too much. I want it to be perfect. Because you’re perfect.” 

“You’re going to ruin me if this is perfect.”

“Good. I want to leave you wrecked with pleasure. I have something to prove.” 

“Wha--aaaaah!” He didn’t give her a chance to finish the question before he dragged his thumb slowly through her folds and pressed it into her and his eyes lit up.

“Wow, you’re really wet…”

“What did you think would happen,” she gasped, and whimpered helplessly when he put his thumb into his mouth and smirked around it.

“More like what I hoped would happen,” he said once he’d sucked the taste of her clean from his skin. “You taste like moonlight on the ocean. I want to drown in you.”

“You’re not allowed to die between my legs,” she said weakly, and he smirked harder.

“If this is how my life ends I’m cool with it.” He spread her thighs a little wider and leaned in to taste her directly, so gentle that she half thought it was a daydream until he pressed his tongue into her and she yowled and knotted her hands in his bedsheets to keep herself from digging her nails into him. Her instinctive reaction to pleasure was pain, trying to defend herself from whatever made her weak, but the last thing she wanted to do right now was hurt him. She… she trusted him, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d trusted someone in bed-- could hardly remember the last time she trusted someone out of bed aside from him-- but here she was as safe as she could get, helpless and undone and in no danger at all in his reverent hands.

“ _Please_ ,” she gasped when he slid one finger into her, her voice almost unrecognizably broken with desire, and he made a feral sound and flickered her clit with his tongue until she screamed, and then kept doing it until she pushed him away with a trembling hand. “Oh fuck, fuck, don’t--” As soon as the word cleared her lips he lifted his head and put his hands flat on the bed to either side of her hips, eyes wide.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I’m just-- fuck. I get a thousand percent more sensitive when I come, it hurts to keep going.”

“Oh!” Delicately, he dropped kisses on both her thighs, then looked up at her with a grin. “How long does that last for?”

“Come up here and kiss me until it’s over and you’ll find out,” she said, and he shifted up the bed immediately, propping his head on one hand and studying her face intently.

“Do you believe I’m not all theory now?”

“Don’t be smug.”

“Oh come on, I deserve to be a little smug.”

“...yeah, you do.” He beamed wider and she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I thought that your writing research was all watching porn and no direct action.”

“As far as I’m concerned, everything I’ve done before today was just practice for this,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her. The taste of herself on his lips sent a shiver through her, and she curled a hand around the back of his neck and chased the flavor into his mouth with a whimper. She bit his lip before pulling back, and he sighed deeply.

“Are you still not letting your dick do the thinking, or will you take your pants off for me?” She sent a hand down to toy with the zipper of his jeans. She’d never seen him move as fast as he did then to get his jeans off, and she traced her fingertips up his length teasingly before wrapping her hand around him. “Oh, I _need_ this inside me.”

“You-- ahh. Wait, wait a second, just--” He rolled away from her to fumble through his bedside table drawer and came back with a condom held between trembling fingers. She plucked it from his grasp, shaking her head slightly.

“Still coherent enough to remember this…”

“I don’t care how far gone I am, I refuse to do anything irreparable to you.”

“Irreparable,” she repeated incredulously. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me, do you?”

“Aside from making you come?”

“You filled in my cracks with gold,” she said. “I’m fucking broken and you made me beautiful.”

“You’ve always been beautiful. And you’re not broken.”

“I don’t feel broken right now.” She tore the condom open and reached down to roll it onto him with a tight grip. He bit his lip and his lashes fluttered against the urge to close his eyes with pleasure. “Please fuck me?”

“Absolutely,” he breathed, and she rolled onto her back and gave him a heavy-lidded inviting gaze. “Do you-- could you maybe roll over, though?”

“Don’t you want to look at my face?” She wasn’t sure whether she was teasing him or begging for more of his attention. 

“To be honest, I’m pretty sure I’d last about five seconds if you met my eyes during this and I’d really like to give you a better showing than that.” He cupped her cheek and gave her a rueful smile. “Next time, though. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, quivering just a little at the thought of this happening again, and she rolled onto her stomach and pillowed her head on her crossed arms. He slid his hands from her waist to her hips and urged them up, then dropped a kiss at the small of her back before moving into position behind her. For a second they both hesitated.

“I love you so much,” he breathed, and she had no time to react to that before he pushed into her to the hilt and the concept of words evaporated for both of them. He was soft and warm wrapped around her, and her back arched until they were pressed together completely, his lips on the back of her neck and her hand flying to cup the back of his neck and keep him right there. She felt hyperaware of him, his frantically quick breath stirring her hair, every fingertip pressing into her hips, and the perfect, delicious ache of him filling her up. He trembled in every inch they were pressed together, afraid to move until he’d clawed himself back from the brink of bliss enough to not embarrass himself immediately. She ran her nails over the nape of his neck, which made him snap his hips, and once he was in motion he couldn’t stop, an uncontrollable and headlong dash into ecstasy. When she reached down his hand beat hers there, fingertips gently circling her clit, and for one brief shining moment she felt as flawless as he insisted she was, whole and perfect and adored just as she was.

He hardly made a sound until the end, rough and ragged breath stifled into her hair until he gasped, “ _Kinga_ ,” the closest thing to a prayer that had ever escaped him. She reached back to clutch his hip as his rhythm stuttered and then failed completely, that last desperate thrust as he came just enough to drag her over the edge with him. They collapsed together, his weight bearing her down to the bed, and instead of feeling squished or uncomfortable underneath him she just felt profoundly safe for the moment before he rolled off her and sprawled on his back gasping for breath. She stretched out fully, toes pointed and hands reaching for his headboard, and then curled up against his side when she relaxed with a sigh.

“Holy fuck,” she said, and he turned to look at her with a question in his eyes. “When did you get so good at that?”

“I’ve been good at that the entire time you’ve known me,” he said, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Well, you don’t look like a stereotypical Casanova,” she said, and he stopped laughing, uncertainty shining in his eyes until she leaned in and kissed him. “You’ve always been so much more than a first glance would tell, though,” she added, and he relaxed with a sigh.

“The pearl is inside the ugly shell,” he said, and she scoffed.

“You’re not an ugly shell. You just look more adorable than sexy.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you’re totally cute. Very disarming.”

“Disarming,” he repeated, and huffed a laugh. “Okay. I can accept that.”

“Good.” She settled her head on his shoulder and sighed deeply. “Mm. Nap time?”

“I might be able to sleep,” he said, and reached over the side of the bed for the sheet that had dropped, pulling it over them both and kissing her forehead gently. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Max woke up in an empty bed a few hours later, and for a second he thought he’d dreamed it-- but he was naked, and that was a used condom, and he remembered it all far too clearly for it to have been a production of his unconscious mind. He pulled on his boxers and wandered out to his living room, rubbing his eyes and blinking, to find the room lit by colorful paper lanterns on a string. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure where they came from. There was no sign that Kinga had been there. On the back of the couch, Sheila chirruped when he pet her and then hissed when she lifted her head. He sighed and left her alone. His phone was on the end table, and he sat down on the other end of the couch and stared down at it for a couple of minutes before he opened his texts from Kinga to find two words.

_**I’m sorry** _

_what are you sorry for? where did you go? come back, I have plans for you_

He waited for her to respond, but she never did. By midnight he’d sent a string of increasingly frantic messages.

_what happened? are you okay?_

_Kinga? are you okay?_

_what did I do wrong?_

_please talk to me_

_please_

_Kinga please_

He was worried about what she might do. He was worried about what he might do, too. He wasn’t sure which he was more worried about when he knew they’d been having the same awful thoughts earlier that day.

She never answered his texts. He washed down his meds with Jack Daniels because it didn’t fucking matter and kept drinking until sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [DVD commentary version here!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Wcbxsp86MmFiA6owZrErbYQ16l3l8jKcmdkS6hFryfI/edit?usp=sharing)


	3. what happens when people actually talk about how they feel (and other activities)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after chapter one. Advanced cuddling techniques, awkward conversations, unexpected conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this AU got completely out of hand. And I'm not done with it yet. Sorry not sorry. I don't know why I'm shipping Max/Jonah so hard right now but it's like 80% of what I'm working on at the moment.

The peace couldn't last forever; Sheila rolled onto her back and Jonah didn't know better than to fall into the fuzzy trap, ending up with four lines scratched clear across the back of his hand. He yelped and pulled his hand away and the cat darted off the bed, meowing loudly at the closed door until Max got up to let her out, pretty sure from past experience that she wouldn't bother Kinga on the couch.

"I'm sorry, she's kinda evil," he said, taking Jonah's hand and turning it to inspect the damage. "Do you want a bandage?"

"N-no, I'm--" Jonah blinked at the welling blood and shook his head. "I'll be fine. I should wash my hands though."

"You know where the bathroom is." Jonah liked Max's bathroom because his nerdiness was on display even there. Jonah was always tempted to take a selfie in front of the shower curtain of the U.S.S. Enterprise's transporter room, but tonight he was too eager to get back to whatever was about to happen to waste time on that. The scratches stopped bleeding pretty quickly, soap stinging them as he washed the blood away, and he inspected himself in the mirror briefly.

Kinga had said that Max touching him was a bad thing, but Jonah was pretty sure she was lying. It didn't feel like a bad thing. Max was nice, and so gentle, and he actually listened when Jonah talked, and Jonah wanted to see what Max would do next. He toyed with the zipper on his hoodie for a second and then unzipped it all at once before he walked back into the bedroom. Max glanced up from his phone and then set it aside immediately, smiling.

"Cool shirt."

"You should see the back of it." It was Jonah's favorite penguin shirt. The back had a meme on it. He didn't take off his hoodie, though, not ready to lose his security blanket yet, and Max didn't ask him to, just patted the bed next to him invitingly. When Jonah stretched his legs out as he cuddled up to Max, Max huffed a laugh.

"Your legs are twice as long as mine," he said, toes nudging just below Jonah's knee. "That's where it all comes from."

"When I was younger I thought I might not ever stop growing and I'd end up ten feet tall."

"How tall _are_ you?"

"Six feet, five and a third inches."

"Do you really need to count the third of an inch?" Max laughed.

"Well, I have it, so I might as well count it."

"I thought only short people did that."

"How tall are you?" Max turned slightly pink.

"Five foot three and a half." It was Jonah's turn to laugh, and Max reached up to cup his cheek, fingers rubbing against Jonah's scruff in a surprisingly pleasant way. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Jonah had been kissed before, but not well or by anyone who cared about him. Context made a huge difference, too, and the context of Max's bedroom was cozy and disarming. Max nudged their noses together playfully before pressing his lips to Jonah's in a soft and undemanding kiss, far nicer than the last time someone had kissed Jonah and tried to shove their tongue down his throat. This time he had both the chance and the desire to kiss back, and Max made a quiet pleased sound when he did so, his hand sliding back to tangle in Jonah's hair and hold him close when their lips parted.

"Is this okay?"

"You don't have to ask me every ten seconds," Jonah said. "If something's not okay I'll speak up."

"Oh... sorry." Max looked abashed, and Jonah tapped their noses together again. "I don't mean to handle you with kid gloves, I just don't want to pressure you into anything."

"You're not. This is exactly where I want to be."

"I am still going to ask before I do things though."

"Good. Thank you." Max's hands curled around the open edges of Jonah's hoodie and tugged gently.

"Could I get you out of this?" Jonah hesitated a second before shrugging out of it, leaving it on the pillow, and he shivered when Max skimmed fingertips up his forearm. "I don't think I've ever seen you without a hoodie on."

"You haven't," Jonah said. "Most people haven't. Most people won't."

"Then I'm amongst a lucky few." Max laced their fingers together and pulled Jonah's hand up to kiss the back of it, and Jonah huffed a laugh.

"That's a nice way to put it."

"It's a privilege," Max said. "One I'm thrilled to receive. So thank you."

"When did you get so charming?"

"It comes and goes." If Kinga was right about Max being manic, then this was the first time Jonah had a friend go through a manic episode. It seemed like being charming was a strange side effect, though. Maybe it was confidence reinterpreted through an already wordy brain. Max's free hand toyed with the hem of Jonah's shirt. "How would you feel about taking your t-shirt off?"

"What are your intentions for me?" Jonah asked, and Max bit his lip.

"Well, I was winging it based on your reactions, but if you'd like an itinerary--"

"It might be more efficient if I knew the direction we're heading."

"Intensive cuddling with the option for an orgasm if you'd like one?"

"Really?" Jonah's eyes widened as this new information processed.

"You said you wanted to keep your options open, I'm just putting them on the table.... why, are you interested?" Max couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

"I'd like to hear more about this option," Jonah said, and Max settled one hand on Jonah's thigh and smiled.

"You like it when I touch you... I was just going to touch you in more places."

"That sounds pretty excellent. What do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I'm perfectly satisfied just getting to touch you. But if you want to touch me back that'd be great too. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"How about this... if you want me to take something off, you have to take it off too," Jonah suggested.

"That's very equitable. Good idea." Jonah tugged at Max's t-shirt with two fingers and it hit the floor a moment later, no hesitation or self-consciousness on Max's part.

"Oh! You have ink." Jonah curled a hand around Max's upper arm to hold him still to inspect the tattoo, which was the Rebel Alliance insignia in vivid orange. "That's cool."

"That was a very poorly thought out decision I'll carry forever," Max said, but he was smiling. "Good thing I like it. It's rare for things I do in that state to be worth commemorating." Jonah leaned down to press his lips to the tattoo, and Max shivered. "You have any?"

"Only one." Jonah pulled his shirt off and offered his arm to Max, whose eyes widened.

"Very cool penguin."

“Thanks. They’re the best animals.”

“You want more?”

“My next one will be a robot. I just have to decide what robot. There are so many of them and they’re all awesome.” Max traced one of the penguin’s wings with one fingertip, then pressed his splayed hand to Jonah’s chest, smiling. “Your hands are so warm.”

“I’m warm all over,” Max said, and Jonah felt like that was a claim worth investigating for himself, wide hands spanning Max’s torso and running his fingertips gently down. Max giggled and shifted a little. “Here, come here, I said we were cuddling, cuddle up with me.” He tapped his shoulder as he settled back against the pillows. “Put your head right here and I’ll pet your hair. Oh, your glasses…” Jonah pulled off his glasses and the chewy necklace still hanging around his neck and put them on the bedside table, and snuggled up as requested, sighing with contentment when Max buried fingers in his hair and started gently scratching his scalp.

“You _are_ warm all over,” Jonah murmured, one arm wrapped around Max’s middle and one leg curled over Max’s. “You’re so cozy.”

“I’m basically custom-built for cuddling. And you’re pretty cozy too. And you smell really nice, like _really_ nice, what is that?”

“What, my shampoo? It’s lavender chamomile. I have sensitive skin.” 

“That’s part of it but not all of it. Jeez, I want to huff you like some people huff model glue.” Jonah laughed when Max nuzzled into his hair and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Yeah, you’re super duper cuddleworthy. I may have daydreamed about doing this but I was undercutting the experience.” 

“You daydream about me?” Was that weird? Honestly, it was… kinda cute, Jonah thought. Max laughed softly.

“Sweetheart, I’m a writer, I daydream about everything. But yes, I’ve definitely thought about this before.”

“What did you think it would be like?” It was rare for someone to say they thought about Jonah when he wasn’t around. He was intensely curious to know what had been on Max’s mind.

“Oh, jeez. Well… I hoped you’d like it but wasn’t sure if you would. You don’t usually like being touched and I didn’t know if it was a proximity thing or a sensory thing or what.”

“No, just garden-variety trust issues on nuclear fertilizer. It’s usually a bad idea to let people get close. You seem okay though.”

“I’m not sure I’d call any of our trust issues garden-variety,” Max said dryly. 

“You don’t have trust issues.”

“Oh, I don’t? That’s refreshing to know.”

“You’re almost well-adjusted.”

“God, you’re cute. I hate to shatter the illusion.”

“What do you mean?” Max’s hand went still in Jonah’s hair, then slid to cup the back of his neck.

“You’ve known me about a year.”

“Forty-seven weeks.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve been essentially stable for a little over two years now. Right before that… I got manic, then I got depressed, then I got hospitalized. Or, well, I got manic, then it got mixed, then I got hospitalized, then I got depressed. I always come out of the psych ward feeling like hell, they don’t care what the side effects are when they’re shooting you up with downers and apparently mania is soooo dangerous that they have to immediately turn me into a zombie to stop it…” Jonah could practically hear Max rolling his eyes. 

“That sounds awful.”

“It is awful. It’s the worst. But god forbid anyone let me just take my own medication when I’m upswinging. Right to the fucking Haldol, every time they drag me in there. But that’s shitty, you don’t need to hear about that, just… I’m not well-adjusted. I fake it pretty well when I’m leveled out. But sooner or later you’ll see what happens when I’m not.”

“...are you upswinging now?” Jonah’s voice was very, very soft. Max sighed into his hair. 

“Kinga overreacts to my moods. I’m fine. A little speeded up, but that happens whenever I don’t get a full night’s sleep. It’s just a weird brain trigger thing. I’ll get enough sleep tonight and I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Should I let you sleep, then?” Jonah made to move away and Max wrapped an arm around him.

“Absolutely not, I am currently quite occupied with a matter of some importance.”

“You are?”

“Mmhm. I’m touching you, that’s very important.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yes. Cuddling you proves that my daydreams were inadequate. I’m hopeful that you’ll let me find out how much better reality is than the rest of those daydreams.” 

“What does that entail?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

“I think that’s exactly what I would like, yes.” Max kissed the top of Jonah’s head.

“Would you like to take your pants off for me?”

“Only if you do too.”

“Of course, that’s what we agreed on.” Jonah stood up to kick his jeans down his long legs, while Max just wiggled out of his on the bed, leaving them both in boxers that did little to veil the fact that they were both turned on from the close proximity. Max gave Jonah a hungry up-and-down look. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sexy?”

“Literally no one in my entire life has ever told me that,” Jonah said as he sat back down on the bed, and Max leaned in to kiss him.

“Let me be the first, then. You’re sexy. You’re a hot nerd and that’s my type.” 

“That sounds fake…” Jonah gulped when Max smoothed a hand up his thigh, and Max paused, lip between his teeth.

“I’m not lying. Are you still okay with me touching you? I don’t want to take advantage--”

“Please don’t stop,” Jonah said promptly. “I’m nervous but if I never did things that make me nervous I’d just stay home all day. I have to come out of my comfort zone. Or at least, my therapist has told me that often enough that I’ve internalized it. And this seems worth it.” Max laughed and gently touched Jonah’s other leg.

“Can I sit in your lap?”

“Um… yes?” Almost instantly, Max moved to straddle his legs, knees bracketing Jonah’s hips. Their eyes met and Jonah flushed and glanced down, putting his hands on Max’s hips just to give them something to do. “You’re lighter than you look.”

“I’ll take that in the spirit it was intended,” Max said, and this time when he leaned in for a kiss and buried his hand back into Jonah’s hair they were pressed together from lips to hips. Jonah whimpered when he felt Max’s erection nudge against his own through two thin layers of fabric, and his hands tightened on Max’s hips. “Mmm. You’re so good to hold like this, it’s unbelievable.”

“Please…”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know what,” Jonah said a little desperately. “I thought saying please might be enough.”

“Oh, you are just the sweetest. Don’t worry, Jonah, I won’t leave you unsatisfied.” Max kissed him again, then left a trail of kisses from the stubble-roughened hinge of his jaw down his neck and the slope of his shoulder, making Jonah shiver. Hands roaming over Jonah’s body, Max sought out where he was sensitive and caressed those spots tenderly, building a mental map of places to revisit if they ever did this again. He hooked two fingers in the waistband of Jonah’s boxers and tugged. “Either take these off or let me put my hand in them?”

“Put your hand in them,” Jonah said, not quite ready to be naked yet, and then gasped when Max did exactly that, fingers wrapping around Jonah’s length.

“You’re big all over, aren’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, Max kissed him again, then kept kissing him just to feel the stifled whimpers and sighs escaping Jonah as Max stroked him. Jonah felt like he was overloading with pleasure, surprised at how much better this felt with someone else’s hand and not his own, and he dug his fingers into Max’s curls and kissed him back, too overwhelmed to do much more than that. When the kisses stopped, Jonah opened his eyes with a sound of protest only to find Max staring at him with a dopey, lovestruck smile. “You’re _so_ cute,” he breathed, and Jonah’s fingers and toes all curled an instant later when that affection short-circuited his brain and he lost control.

“Oh,” he sighed, opening his eyes again a moment later when his senses started returning real data again. “Oh. Wow. Okay.”

“Okay?” Max looked like he was trying not to laugh as he leaned over to snag a tissue from the bedside table and wipe his hand and Jonah’s stomach clean. “Good? Not traumatizing?”

“I’m good. Are you good?” 

“I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, don’t worry.” Jonah wasn’t worried. Max was broadcasting contentment obviously enough for even Jonah to pick up on it easily. When Max moved to settle next to Jonah instead of on top of him, Jonah looked down at the hand he placed on Max’s thigh. “Oh, you don’t have to--”

“But I can if I want?”

“Well, yeah, of course.” The breathy sound Max made when Jonah moved his hand up made Jonah much more certain that he did want to. Finding out that Max was very vocal when being touched definitely qualified in Jonah’s top five discoveries of a lifetime, and correlating action and reaction was so fascinating that getting Max to come was almost an afterthought and caught Jonah by surprise when Max yelped and grabbed his wrist tightly. “Oh my god!”

“Oops,” Jonah said, and Max gave him a look of total disbelief.

“ _Oops_? Was that-- ahhh. Was that not what you were intending?”

“I… I mean, I guess so, I just wasn’t thinking about it…”

“Please don’t tell me what you were thinking about, my ego can’t handle it.”

“I was thinking about you… I was thinking about how to get you to make that really good gaspy sound again.”

“Were you _experimenting_ on me?”

“Don’t make it sound so clinical…”

“No, no, that’s…. That’s kind of amazing. Wow, you are really one of a kind.” Laughing, Max leaned up to kiss Jonah’s cheek. “If you want to experiment on me, go right ahead.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But… tomorrow.” Max handed Jonah a tissue and studied him quietly while Jonah cleaned up, then tugged him down to the bed and gently manhandled him until they were back in optimal cuddle position. “Here’s hoping for eight hours of sleep,” he said dryly right before he clicked off the light. 

Jonah thought it might take him a while to fall asleep. Usually he didn’t sleep well outside of his own bed. He’d never had the soft white noise of another person’s breathing or the cozy, sleep-inducing warmth of someone in his arms to help him drift away before, though. He was asleep before he knew how tired he was.

The first thing Jonah realized when he woke up was that he was wearing clothes (okay, just boxers, but still clothes). The second thing, a moment later, was that his pillow was breathing. Neither of these things were ever true in his own bed. When he lifted his head, he realized two more things: he'd ended up sleeping partially on top of Max, and Max was already awake.

"Morning," Max murmured, and Jonah smiled sleepily and moved to shift off him until Max wrapped an arm around him to hold him where he was. "You talk in your sleep."

"I know," Jonah said, laying his head on Max's chest again. "I wake up in the middle of sentences sometimes. What was I saying?"

"You were ordering a cheeseburger at one point."

"Yeah, I dreamed about that. They got my order wrong."

"That's a very mundane dream."

"They gave me a kitten in a paper bag instead of a burger and fries."

"...maybe not so mundane." Max nuzzled against Jonah's hair and sighed happily. "What kind of donuts do you like? I was thinking about running out and getting some."

"How do you want to do things right when you wake up?"

"Right when I wake up? I've been awake for like two hours." Jonah lifted his head again, all the way up this time, and blinked at Max.

"You let me sleep on you for _two hours_ after you woke up?"

"Yeah. I don't get the opportunity to hold someone all night very often... I didn't want it to stop." Max shrugged slightly. "Sorry, that's probably really weird."

"It's kinda weird," Jonah agreed, "but not bad-weird."

"You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you. I knew you'd wake up sooner or later. So, donuts...?"

"I like jelly donuts. Want me to come with you?"

"No, you stay here and relax. It's still pretty early, I woke up when the sun rose." Max got up and pulled on yesterday's jeans, ran a completely perfunctory hand through the wreck of his hair, and paused with his hand on the doorknob just to look back at Jonah with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

He didn't close the door all the way behind him. Jonah could hear his voice, and then Kinga's, but not what they were saying, and then sound of the front door closing. Jonah fumbled for where he'd left his glasses and necklace, shrugged his t-shirt and hoodie back on, then went to use the bathroom. When he passed through the living room Kinga was already sitting up and wide awake, and she eyed him hard enough to make him wish he'd put his pants back on too. On his way back she beckoned him over to the couch, rolling her eyes when he hesitated. He wanted his jeans, but she looked impatient, and he really didn't want to see her annoyed.

"Come here, Jonah. I just want to talk to you." He didn't trust that, but he sat gingerly at the opposite end of the couch and pulled the knitted blanket off the back of the couch to put over his lap. She steepled her fingers and regarded him over them. "So. Max."

"Yes."

"Did you fuck him?"

"What? No." Well, he hadn't, and he wasn't about to volunteer what they'd actually done, even if he did turn pink at the memory of it.

"Do you want to?"

"Um... yeah, I think I’d like to in the future," Jonah admitted, and she huffed an annoyed breath when he looked down.

"Look at me," she said, and waited until he did it to go on. "Don't do it while he's manic. He doesn't talk about what he does when he's manic after he comes down. If you care about him, don't make yourself one of those things."

"Why do you care?"

"He's my best friend and you're a good guy. I don't want either of you to get hurt again."

"Again?"

"At all," she amended quickly, but the damage had been done and Jonah wasn't about to drop it.

"Who hurt him?"

"Nobody hurt him, he's fine."

"I'm autistic, not stupid, Kinga. What happened to him?"

"I happened to him," she said. "Or he happened to me. We happened to each other and it... it didn't go well afterwards."

"You're still friends," Jonah said, puzzled.

"Yeah."

"You hurt him and you're still best friends?"

"Max is very forgiving. Too forgiving."

"Do you love him?"

"Of course I love him." She sounded exasperated, and he just got more confused.

"So why did you hurt him?"

"Because I don't deserve him, okay? He's too good for me. I would have made him miserable if he knew I loved him."

"I think you made him miserable because he didn't know you loved him."

"I don't think you have any place giving me emotional advice."

"Why? Because I'm autistic? You think I don't have feelings?"

"Of course you have feelings," she snapped, "you have feelings _about him_ , why are you trying to undercut your own chances with him?"

"That's dumb," Jonah said, rolling his eyes. "As if he can only care about one person? That's not how people work."

"That's how I work," she said, and he blinked and looked at her curiously.

"Yeah, but what's wrong with you isn't what's wrong with him." Her cheeks flooded with color.

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you come to the neurodivergent art therapy class because you're perfectly normal. Get real, you're as fucked up as any of the rest of us."

"Don't be a dick."

" _I'm_ being a dick. Right. Look, whatever. If you want to be miserable that's on you. But I still think you should tell him if you love him. He deserves to know the truth."

"I don't get you," she said, and he shrugged.

"That's your problem." Her eyes widened and she was about to get indignant when Max came back with a box of donuts and three drinks. He paused in the doorway and assessed the situation-- Kinga leaning in with a raised finger, Jonah leaning away from her, a bit of distance between them-- and neatly interrupted it by sitting between them on the couch.

"I hope I got this right," he said, handing a cup to Jonah. Jonah took a sip and sighed happily-- raspberry coffee, almond milk, six sugars. Perfect.

"You pay way more attention than most people," Jonah said, and Kinga snorted.

"You have no idea."

"I like to be thoughtful," Max said, and handed Kinga hers. "Only to people who matter."

"I matter?" Jonah sounded surprised. Max gave him an equally surprised look.

"Of course you matter. Both of you matter to me."

"You matter too," Kinga said, and he smiled at her.

"I'd hope so." He flipped open the box and she swooped in on a Boston creme like a peregrine diving for a mouse. Jonah was a bit more polite about taking a jelly donut, and Max snagged a chocolate one. They'd barely taken two bites before Sheila came trotting up with a trill. "Oh no, these are not for you, missy."

"I fed her already," Kinga mumbled through a mouthful of filling, and she wiped chocolate off her lips with her thumb and licked it clean. "Not that that'll stop the begging." Jonah got a bit of jelly on his fingertip and held it down to the cat hopefully. "She's going to bite you."

"She might not," Jonah said, holding very still when Sheila came over to sniff his finger suspiciously. She licked the jelly off, and when she went to bite Jonah pulled his hand back quickly. "Or she might try and fail."

"Don't give her people food," Max said. "The vet already gives me hell about her being fat."

"So? Your doctor gives you hell about you being fat and you don't care about that." Jonah gasped quietly at Kinga's offhanded comment, but Max just shrugged.

"Yes, but she's not on medication that keeps her fat. I can't do anything about my mood stabilizer side effects."

"I'm just saying that it's hypocritical to deny your poor indoor cat the pleasure of people food when she's as stuck in this apartment as you are stuck on your med regime."

"I don't think that's the definition of hypocrisy," Jonah chimed in. "He's trying to do the right thing for her."

"Max always tries to do the right thing for other people," Kinga said. "Even when he doesn't know what the actual right thing is."

"How did this become about me?" Max asked, slightly despairing. "This is about the cat, can it stay about the cat?" Sheila meowed loudly at their feet and he pointed at her. "See, she wants the focus back."

"I think you're good at doing the right thing," Jonah said, elbow pressing against Max's arm gently. "For what it's worth."

"You have a lot less experience with him than I do," Kinga said, and Max abruptly turned pink.

"If we're not going to keep the topic on the cat I'd like to insist that the topic not be me," he said, and reached for another donut. "Nice weather we're having. How about that sportsball team?"

"But I like talking about you," Kinga said. "You're one of my favorite topics."

"You like shit-talking me," Max said with a snort, and she tossed her head.

"I tease because I love." He froze mid-bite, lowered his donut, swallowed, and fixed an intent stare on her. She blinked when she realized what she said, then shrugged and committed to it. "You're my person, you know that."

"You can't have him all to yourself," Jonah said mildly, and Max turned a startled look on him next. "That's selfish."

"I'm not trying to keep him all to myself," Kinga said, rolling her eyes. "He's allowed to have friends besides me."

"Since when?" Max asked. "You hate it when I spend time with other people. You hate it when I spend time by myself when you're bored and want attention. What's gotten into you?" He studied her closely. "What's going on here? What happened while I was gone?"

"Nothing," Kinga said, at the same time Jonah said, "She just wanted to talk."

"Talk about what?" Max's eyes narrowed. Kinga's lips pressed into a tight line.

"About you. What else would we talk about?" Max turned to look at Jonah, who pushed his glasses up and looked down at the cup held between his knees. "She wasn't shit-talking you either."

"Very cold comfort," Max said.

"You should stop talking," Kinga said.

"Then you should start talking," Jonah retorted, and she huffed angrily and looked down at her coffee clasped between both hands.

"I'll talk when it's time for me to talk," she said.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on here? Because I'm completely confused." Max's gaze bounced from Kinga to Jonah and back again, and she shook her head.

"I'm not having this conversation while you're manic."

"I'm _not_ manic! How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me? I think I know what's going on inside my head a little better than you do!"

"You never admit it when you are," she said, and he sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kinga. I'm not manic. I'm a little bit hypomanic. It's not the same thing."

"It's the first step."

"Whatever conversation you're avoiding, I want to have it now."

"You can't make me."

"If you don't tell him I will," Jonah chimed in, and Kinga turned a shocked look on him, her jaw dropped.

"How dare you. You manipulative little--"

"I'm not manipulative. Or little. You're manipulative."

"I will listen to whoever talks first," Max said, and Kinga snarled and tossed her head.

" _Fine_. Fuck. Remember when you told me you loved me?"

"Vividly and compulsively."

"And you wanted to talk about it afterward?"

"I don't know if I wanted to talk about it so much as have you acknowledge it happened, but yes."

"And then after your mood leveled out you never wanted to talk about it again."

"Is that what you think?"

"You never talk about what you do when you're manic."

"That's because most of it is awful and embarrassing," Max said, shaking his head. "Every time I've been arrested or hospitalized, most of the times I've been injured, and... the time I got my heart broken. I didn't drop it because it happened while I was manic, I dropped it because I was tired of you stonewalling me... tired of crying myself to sleep after you blew me off trying to get you to admit that something happened between us."

"You deserve better than me," Kinga said. "It doesn't matter that I love you. I'm terrible and I'd make you miserable and you should be with someone who can make you happy."

"Excuse me, it matters a lot that you love me and you don't get to make decisions like that for me." Max only seemed to realize what he'd said a second later. "Wait, you love me? For real?"

"Yes, but it doesn't matter," she said, pointing past him at Jonah. "He could make you happier than I could. And that's what I wanted to talk to him about. Him making you happy. But when I let this slip, he said I needed to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve to know," Jonah said, shrugging.

"I thought you were interested in me."

"I am."

"But you wanted her to confess this?"

"It's not fair of her to make you believe you're the only one with feelings."

"You realize how complicated you just made my life, right?" Jonah blinked and shrank into himself, and Max sighed and patted his leg gently. "No, it's fine, you just-- well, I guess it doesn't really change anything if she still insists that she's bad for me."

"I _am_ bad for you."

"You aren't, actually."

"I hurt you all the time."

"So? I'm not a picnic either. You're more good for me than bad for me. If you weren't, we wouldn't still be friends."

"You deserve to be with someone who'll be good to you."

"I don't think instigating this conversation qualifies as 'being good to me', but okay, I'll accept the premise. So you're, what, trying to push Jonah in my lap as a suitable match?"

"You already like each other. And given the state each of you were in the first time I saw you today, I'm pretty sure _something_ happened last night. But I didn't want the same thing to happen to him as happened to me."

"What happened to you being....?"

"Never talking about it again after your mood levels out."

"That was your decision, not mine!" Max threw up his hands in frustration. “I would have talked about it at any time if you’d agreed to it! If anything happened to you, you did it to yourself.”

“I’m pretty sure nothing I’ve ever done in my life was as good as what you did to me, so no, I definitely did not do it to myself.”

“...really?”

“Yeah. You ruined me. For a minute I felt perfect, and I’m not allowed to feel like that.”

“And _that’s_ why you shut me out? Because you don’t think you’re allowed to be loved?”

“You know how fucked up I am,” she said softly, and he sighed. “You know how I fuck everything up.”

“If you know you fuck everything up, then why are you trying to meddle with me and Jonah?”

“I wasn’t trying to meddle! I was trying to help!”

“I think I’m the one who meddled,” Jonah said. “I’m… I’m sorry, I thought it was the right thing to do, but now I think I was wrong.”

“Don’t apologize,” Max said. “At the very least, I’m getting closure, and that’s something.” He sat back, one hand on his chin as he looked back and forth between them. “So… what’s to come of all this?”

“What do you want to come of it?” Jonah asked. Max snorted.

“Do you want the idealistic answer or the realistic one?”

“What’s the realistic one?”

“I’d like my friendship with Kinga to not suffer from this, and I’d like to see what happens between you and me going forward.”

“What’s the idealistic one?”

“I’d get to have both of you and she wouldn’t murder one of us out of jealousy.”

“I’m not going to murder your boyfriend,” Kinga said, sounding aggrieved.

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Jonah said. “But if I was his boyfriend, I wouldn’t mind if you were his girlfriend too.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I’m not possessive. And it’d be dumb to make him pretend he didn’t love you too. And, I mean, we’re on okay terms with each other, aren’t we?”

“I’d hope so,” she said, and he shrugged. 

“So what’s the big deal? As long as we could treat each other fairly…”

“I can’t guarantee that.”

“We could try.”

“You could get hurt.”

“Any of us could get hurt. All of us could get hurt. Or it might work out fine. We’ll never know unless we give it a shot.”

“Um… if I could interject for a moment…” They both looked at Max, who had turned pink. “If we could not dangle my fondest hopes and dreams in front of me like a pom-pom in front of Sheila, that’d be great. Either let me catch it or put it away but don’t toy with me like this.”

“That’s up to Kinga,” Jonah said. “Either way she goes, I’m still interested in you.” He reached for Max’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You feel safe to me. She doesn’t yet, but she’s not interested in me. And I don’t think you’ll let her hurt me.”

“I never would have pegged you as polyamorous,” Kinga said, and Jonah shrugged.

“Technically, _he’s_ the one who’s polyamorous in this situation, not me.”

“I think this qualifies me as the stereotype of the greedy bisexual,” Max said, nose wrinkling. “I’m not sure I like that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to let one little negative label get in the way of your emotions,” Kinga said, and he shook his head quickly.

“I don’t care what people call me as long as I’m happy.”

“Do you think this will make you happy?” Jonah asked, and Max squeezed his hand back, smiling.

“I’m pretty happy right now. If this works out okay, yeah, I’m sure it will make me happy.” He reached for Kinga’s hand with his free hand, and she laced their fingers together. “It’d be nice if we were all happy.”

“I’m not very good at making you happy,” Kinga said, and Max snorted.

“You’re very good at keeping me alive, though.”

“Well, if you die, I have no one left who cares about me, so you can’t die.”

“Neither of you are allowed to die,” Jonah said. “Ever. We’ll upload our consciousnesses into robots and live forever.”

“Wow, you go from zero to sixty in point five seconds, huh?” Kinga said. “Let’s see if this relationship works before we discuss transhuman immortality schemes, okay?”

“Hey, I’ve had this transhuman immortality scheme since I was eleven years old, don’t think you’re special,” Jonah said, and her jaw dropped.

“I’ll have you know--”

“Noooooope,” Max said, “Party foul. Never tell Kinga she’s not special.”

“Really?”

“It hurts her feelings a lot.”

“It doesn’t hurt my feelings, it’s just a blatant lie,” she said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you’re not special. I just meant that you’re not the first people I’ve suggested this to.”

“You apologized,” she said, studying him thoughtfully. “You’re very interesting, Jonah.”

“Because I’m not an asshole?”

“I wouldn’t trust you with Max if I thought you were an asshole. This is more than that.”

“Well, you’ll have time to figure out why he’s interesting,” Max said. “Maybe. Hopefully.”

“I don’t share well. But I can try.”

“Wait a second,” Max said, sitting back and looking between them. “Am I actually dating both of you now? Is that really what’s happening?” He looked both confused and absolutely delighted. 

“That’s what’s happening,” Jonah confirmed. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Kinga said. “Now, about scheduling--”

“Wait,” Max said again, and she paused, head tilting slightly. “Sorry, I just need a second to revel in this before you start arguing over me.”

“I wasn’t planning on arguing,” Jonah said. “I need a lot of alone time to be happy. And I like spending time with both of you hanging out after art class. I’m not going to try to monopolize you.”

“You’re low maintenance,” Kinga said. “Good. Cause I’m really high maintenance and he can’t deal with two of those.”

“I could handle it,” Max said, and she snorted.

“You’d go looney tunes in a week.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“This is for your own good.”

“Oh, that phrase never bodes well coming from you.”

“Hush, I’ve said it without heralding disaster before.”

“When?”

“Um…”

“That’s one of my least favorite phrases in the English language,” Jonah said. “I’m used to really bad shit happening after people say that to me. So if we could avoid it…”

“We’re going to have to establish some ground rules, I think,” Max said. “Triggers to avoid, who gets to use what pet names--”

“We might have to throw down over that,” Kinga said.

“I’m just going to call you ‘tiny rage’ and be done with it,” Jonah said.

“That’s fair. I’ll need a minute to come up with a good one for you, giraffe is too easy….”

“Wait a second, I’m going to grab a notebook,” Max said, and got up and went into the bedroom, leaving Kinga and Jonah eyeing each other from opposite ends of the couch.

“You’d better be as good for him as I think you’ll be,” Kinga said.

“You’d better not hurt him again,” Jonah retorted, and she smirked.

“I can’t promise that, sorry. You’re definitely going to have to play damage control at some point.”

“Can you at least _try_ not to hurt him?”

“I don’t try to hurt anyone,” she said. “I do it anyways. But I’ll try really hard not to hurt _you_.”

“You’re not dating me.”

“Max is ample proof that I don’t need to be dating a person to hurt them.”

“I’m what now?” Max said, coming back with a notebook and pen, and he sat between them again. 

“You’re wonderful,” Jonah said, and Max smiled. “I think this is going to be really good. I have a good feeling about it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Max said. “So who wants to go first with their things to avoid?”

“Not it,” Kinga and Jonah said simultaneously.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start, then…” Between the three of them, he had a feeling it would be a decently long list, but it was only a place to start, and they could only go up from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the commentary for this chapter.](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1jASTajIjbdIr_2wDcKvznDrYYQG_Ew4awVz1lBwppww)


	4. dissociation and dinner plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinga has a bad night and goes the one place she knows she'll be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this fic is all over the place. The chronological sequence of this fic is Chapter 2 - a couple of years- Chapter 4 - about a year- Chapter 1 - Chapter 3. I'm sorry. If I were a better person I'd fix it, but I think jumping around is more accurate to the whole Mental Illness Vibe anyways.
> 
> The first half of this story is very much based on the Mountain Goats song "[How to Embrace a Swamp Creature](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rF4rCHK_878)" and I recommend listening to it.

Max had settled onto his couch for a night of semiproductivity with everything he needed: laptop, tea, the last of his latest batch of double chocolate chip cookies, and his cat on the back of the couch asleep and not pestering him. He opened his word processor, took a sip of darjeeling, and nearly dropped his teacup into his lap when someone hammered on his door. Sheila bolted into the bedroom. Sighing deeply, he closed his laptop and got up to answer the door.

From the tone of the knock, he expected a cop or someone pissed off at him. What he found on the other side of the door was Kinga, looking fearful and haphazard, head lowered and arms at her sides, hair a mess and eyes darting constantly. "Jeez, what happened to you?"

"Max?" She blinked and looked around his apartment, brows knitted. "I can't breathe..."

"Of course you can breathe," he said gently, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the couch. "What's wrong?"

"I don't belong here." Her hands twitched on her lap until he pressed his teacup into them just to give her something to hold. 

"What do you mean? You belong here if you belong anywhere."

"Is that why I'm here?"

"You came here... You tell me why you're here." Oh, something was really wrong with her. He caught her face between his hands and studied her eyes, but he was pretty sure she wasn't high on anything by the time he released her. "Kinga, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I don't -- I woke up in the wrong place. I don't remember where I went to bed but I'm in the wrong place." She put the teacup down and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I'm sorry, can I-- I need a second." She walked into the bathroom like she knew where she was going, and all he could do was shake his head and go into the kitchen to put the kettle back on.

She came out of the bathroom and followed him into the kitchen a couple minutes later, hesitating in the doorway until he held out a hand to her. "Come here. What's going on with you?" She'd splashed water on her face and attempted to smooth her hair down, but looked just as lost and harried. 

"I'm here because-- Max, you--" She snarled in frustration and covered her face with both hands, then mumbled into her palms, "Am I safe?"

"Of course you're safe, you're here with me. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Promise?"

"Swear on my life." The kettle whistled, and he turned off the flame. "Chamomile or peppermint?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Kinga... Make a decision. Assert some control over what's happening right now." She let her hands fall and took a shaky breath. "Which would you prefer?"

"Chamomile. Please." He made it in a travel mug, not wanting to trust another open container in her still badly trembling hands, and lead her back to the couch before he handed it to her.

"Where have you been today?"

"I woke up in the wrong place."

"You said that."

"I came here."

"How'd you get here?"

"I drove? I think. I must have." He felt in her jacket pocket and pulled out her keys.

"I'm going to hang onto these for a little while and you're going to stay here with me, okay?"

"I came to you," she said, and curled a hand around his wrist. "Max. You're safe. I'm safe here."

"Is that why you came to me?"

"Yes. You'll know what to do. You know where I belong and how to get me there."

"You're not going anywhere."

"Is this where I'm meant to be?"

"As far as I'm concerned, yes. Here, have a cookie. Have you eaten anything today? You're trembling like a leaf." She bit into the cookie, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again there was a hint more recognition in them.

"No," she said. "I didn't eat. I was sure I was dying."

"Dying? Not allowed. I'm making you dinner. What do you want?" She blinked at him, and he chided himself to keep it simple. "Do you want grilled cheese or eggs?"

"Grilled cheese..."

"Good choice. Can I leave you on the couch?"

"No!" She clutched hard at his wrist and he patted her hand soothingly.

"Shh, it's okay. Come sit down in the kitchen, then." There was no kitchen table, but there was a stool that he kept in there for resting during labor-intensive recipes, and she sat and leaned against the fridge and watched him bustle about. "Want to play a game with me?"

"Okay."

"I want you to name things for me. What are five things you can see?"

"I see a starfish magnet... An R2-D2 cookie jar... A catnip mouse... A recycling bin... And my best friend." He gave her a smile and she returned it faintly.

"What about four things you can hear?"

"Your stupid dying refrigerator," she said immediately, and he laughed. "The butter sizzling in the pan. You laughing. And... Music? Do you hear music?" He did not, but he didn't let his worry show.

"Music sounds like a great idea, why don't you put something on? Here." He handed her his phone. "Look through my playlists, I made another one this week."

"Okay."

"While you're doing that... Three things you can smell?"

"Grilled cheese in progress. Tea. And..." She closed her eyes and breathed in, then sighed. "Your apartment. Or you."

"Good. Two things you can feel?" He was briefly focused on making her food, so her arms sliding around him from behind came as a surprise.

"You and your heartbeat," she whispered, one hand pressed flat above his heart, and if she didn't press her lips to the back of his neck then the warmth of her breath was bridging a very narrow space between them. He wondered if she could feel the instantaneous uptick in his heart rate at her touch.

"Where are you, Kinga?"

"I'm in your kitchen."

"How'd you get here?"

"I made it through town somehow..."

"Hey, it's okay. You're here now, that's what matters." He flipped her sandwich onto a plate, turned off the flame, and turned in her arms to search her face. "How do you feel?"

"Weird. Really weird."

"You're always really weird. Hungry? Thirsty? Tired? Achey?"

"All of the above?"

"Well, here, take this into the living room." He handed her the grilled cheese and cupped her cheek for a moment. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you."

"You always do." She took her plate to the couch and he stood in the doorway and studied her while she nibbled at it. She seemed a little more grounded, which was good. He'd seen her dissociating before and it usually didn't last very long if he kept encouraging her to engage with her surroundings. He made a valiant attempt to keep the most interesting way of making her aware of her residence in her own body out of the forefront of his mind, but that unexpected embrace had shaken his already weak resolution to keep their sole ill-advised tryst buried under geologic strata of safer thoughts. He wasn't going to do anything-- he was fucked up by his feelings about her, but not so fucked up that he'd try anything when she wasn't in her right mind-- but the thought flickered at the edges of his mind anyways.

"How's the sandwich?"

"It tastes fake," she said, and his brow knitted.

"What do you mean fake? You know I don't keep that orange wannabe cheese in my house. That's sharp cheddar."

"Not fake like fake cheese... fake like... like having a tea party with my stuffed animals when I was little. Imaginary. All of this is imaginary." Oh jeez. Any time Kinga started talking about her childhood, things got bad quick. 

"I'm not imaginary," he said, and sat down on the couch next to her, his leg pressed against hers. "I'm very real."

"Of course you are," she said. "You're the only real friend I have."

"I-- what?"

"The rest of them are fake."

"No they aren't, I've met some of them."

"Not imaginary. Fake."

"If you say so," he said, realizing he'd totally lost control of the conversation and moving to take it back. "If the sandwich is bad, do you want something else?"

"It's not bad. It's just not real." She took another bite of the sandwich but her nose wrinkled while she chewed it. 

"Tell me what you want, then."

"You," she said, and he choked on air for a second.

"N-no you don't."

"I do. But I'm not allowed." She leaned until they were pressed together from hip to shoulder, but didn't look at him. "I'm in danger, Max."

"I promise you aren't. You're safe with me."

"I'm the danger."

"You're in danger from yourself?" He'd been planning on her sleeping on the couch, but that was ominous and required closer attention. Damn it, tonight was going to be difficult, more than he'd realized. "Are you going to do something bad?"

"I want to," she said, and turned to look at him too intently. "I really want to." It took him a moment to realize that she was staring at his mouth, and another moment to realize that she'd interpreted his nervous lip-bite as an invitation, and then it was too late because her teeth were on his lip instead. He gasped and gently pushed her away.

"No, Kinga."

"No? Why not?"

"Because you wouldn't be doing this if you were making sense today."

"That's what I have you for. To make sense of things." She leaned in again, and he held her back, in a special kind of hell having to say no to her trying to give him what he still desperately wanted. " _Max_. Come on."

" _No_ , Kinga." She whined at the back of her throat and wrapped her hand in the front of his t-shirt.

"But I want you. And you wanted me once."

"I want you all the time," he said. "But not when you can write this off as an episode of something and pretend it didn't happen." Once was enough. He couldn't cope with her doing it to him twice. She pouted, but stopped pulling on his shirt, and he let his hands fall when she wasn't trying to press forward any more.

"Why do you have to be responsible?"

"One of us does."

"Not really."

"Yes, really..." He sighed heavily. "Why can't you say things like this when you're doing okay? Why is it only when you're fucked up?"

"Why can't you go along with it when I can say it?"

"Because I don't hate myself enough to let myself be used when it's convenient and pushed away when it's not," he said quietly, and her eyes dropped, color staining her cheeks. 

"Do you really think I use you?"

"Do you really think you don't?" he shot back, and she quailed even though his tone was still mild. "Not all the time. Not even most of the time. But yes, you absolutely do use me sometimes. And I've accepted that as the price of admission for our friendship. But I have to draw a line somewhere, and I guess that line is my bedroom door."

"We're on the couch," she pointed out, and he rolled his eyes. 

"You know what I mean."

"Can you hold me, at least?" 

"Not if you're just going to try to feel me up." She huffed in annoyance, tucked her hands under her arms, and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Thank you," he said, and wrapped an arm around her. "Want to watch something?"

"I don't care," she said sulkily. "I won't pay attention anyways."

"So what's new." He put on Steven Universe just because he knew she liked it, and when he put down the remote she rearranged herself against him and sighed. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly at the end of the first episode, and she sighed again.

"Out of place."

"Still?"

"You're not helping."

"Well, you're the one who came here. And you know you're always welcome here whether you feel out of place or not."

"I don't feel very welcome," she said sullenly, and he squeezed her shoulders gently.

"Whether you feel it right now or not, it's the truth."

"Can't you just take me to bed?" Fuck, this was so unfair. All the time they spent together, and the only time she could say things like this was when she was dissociating too hard for him to be sure she meant any of it. If he were any less patient, he would scream. He kind of wanted to scream anyways. Instead, he covered one of her hands with his.

"Are you going to be trustworthy if I do, or do I have to wrap you like a burrito to ensure your good behavior?"

"Excuse me, I'm a sushi roll, not a burrito," she said, full offense in her voice.

"Pardon me, ginger goddess, how could I have made such a basic mistake," he said, rolling his eyes. "And that's a yes on the wrapping, then."

"No, you don't have to. I'll be good."

"Will you?" He sounded skeptical. She lifted her head and gave him an intent look.

"I don't want you to kick me out. I'll behave. I will."

"If you do try to pull something, I'm going to be really mad at you for ignoring my no."

"Am I so untrustworthy that I need this many warnings?"

"Not untrustworthy, just... very, very selfish sometimes."

"I can't even argue against that," she sighed, and he pulled her close again and sighed back at her.

"Look, wake up tomorrow morning and tell me the things you told me tonight and I'll do something about it. But I'm 99 percent sure that you won't."

"Don't be so sure."

"Kinga, I am _begging_ you, prove me wrong."

But, not to his surprise, she didn't. When he woke up in the morning, she wasn't in the bed, and when he stumbled out to the kitchen in search of coffee, she couldn't meet his eyes over her own mug while he poured the last of the pot, and when she asked for her car keys all he could do was let her leave.

Maybe she'd surprise him one day. But he'd known down to his bones that it wouldn't be today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the commentary for this chapter.](https://drive.google.com/open?id=1DBO6uYf9otlrvW__zkMm8mAT1B80Ggyc8mRKUHX9KH4)


	5. sushi, snuggles & a crash course in morning sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art class is a bust during Autism Awareness Month but that doesn't mean they aren't going to spend the rest of the night together—after all, it's sushi night. Kinga's attempts to facilitate Max's fantasies bring the three of them closer in new and intriguing ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this story. I was not done with this story. I am still not done with this story, there will be at least one more chapter.
> 
> Thanks to NightfireAdamante for helping me polish this up!

Max had never in his life seriously thought that he'd be dating two people at once. He’d had a hard enough time getting one person to say yes to his affection, but it turned out to not be a huge deal or a hassle to figure out with the particular two he’d found. It helped that Jonah liked to spend a lot of time by himself; his introversion lined up neatly with Kinga's extroversion to leave neither of them feeling neglected by the amount of attention each got. The three of them hung out together after their weekly art therapy session, and at first Kinga and Jonah did their best to stay out of each other’s way for the rest of the week. 

That state of affairs lasted two months, which was one and a half months longer than Max expected to go without some kind of calamity, and when the change came it was not, in fact, a disaster, but the result of Kinga warming up to Jonah and Jonah starting to trust Kinga. When Kinga suggested the three of them do something together on a different night than the art group, Jonah agreed easily, and Max was more than happy to spend more time with the both of them together.

Figuring out acceptable three-person dates was a fun kind of challenge for Max after that, weighing Jonah's sensory triggers and Kinga's ruthless dismissal of anything that wasn't fun to her to find things that all of them would enjoy doing together. It turned out that Jonah didn't mind seeing movies he qualified as 'bad' as long as he could make fun of them while he watched them, which Max quickly discovered made everything at least fifty percent more enjoyable for him, and Kinga, on Max’s other side, was happy as long as she couldn’t hear him.

Kinga's competitive nature meant that board games could easily get out of hand, so Max found a few cooperative ones to turn her drive to win at everything into all three of them winning (except for the night of playing Pandemic where they lost three times in a row and then she flipped the board and that was it for the night). Max's personal favorite type of date night involved the three of them making dinner together (or, more accurately, Max doing eighty percent of the work, Jonah doing fifteen percent of it, and Kinga doing whatever five percent Max was mostly sure her kitchen-disaster nature couldn't botch) and then cuddling on the couch afterwards.

That was the plan on the Thursday in the first week of April: art group, then back to Max's to make dinner and cuddle. This plan went out the window as soon as Amber set down a blank, assembled puzzle in front of each of them.

"Today we'll be making our own puzzles!" she chirped. Jonah immediately pushed it away from him.

"I'm not doing this," he said.

"But... it's for Autism Awareness Month," she said. His lip curled in a snarl worthy of Kinga.

"Autism doesn't need awareness, it needs acceptance," he said, crossing his arms. "What, did you get the blanks from Autism Speaks? You gonna light it up blue too?"

"You're being unusually hostile," Amber said, and Jonah looked even more disgusted.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you feel more comfortable if I regurgitated some MRA bullshit to make you feel as great about being a woman as I feel about being autistic when you trot out garbage promoted by a hate group?" He pushed his chair back and stood up. "Forget it, I'm out."

"Jonah, wait—" He was out the door before she could say anything else. She shot a bemused look at Max and Kinga when they both stood up too.

"See you next week," Max said, and they walked out after Jonah. He hadn't gone far; there were benches outside the mental health center and he was sitting on one of them, glasses in one hand and the other pressed to his eyes, his chewy necklace clenched between his teeth. "Hey," Max said softly, and Jonah dropped his hand and blinked in their direction.

"What was _that_ all about?" Kinga asked. "I've never seen you react like that to anything."

"I hate April," Jonah said after letting his necklace fall out of his mouth, and put his glasses back on. "I hate people thinking they know anything about autism because they read an infographic once. I fucking _hate_ the stupid puzzle piece thing. I hate the whole concept of 'awareness' as a thing that doesn't require understanding or accommodation or, you know, listening at all to actually autistic people instead of neurotypicals who think they know better than we do what we need to thrive."

"Are you going to be okay?" Max asked, and Jonah shrugged. "Do you still want to hang out tonight?"

"That’s about the only thing that could save the evening from how pissed off that made me," Jonah said, and Kinga sat down next to him and leaned against his arm.

"Do you want to decide what else we do with the extra time?" she asked, and Jonah's eyes widened.

"You don't mind?"

"I'm not the one with the hurt feelings, for a change. _You_ should decide what'll make you feel better."

"I just... kind of want to be cuddled, please."

"You can definitely be cuddled," Max said. "Gladly. C'mon, the sooner we get to my couch the sooner some quality snuggle time can commence." 

Jonah still refused to ride in Kinga's car, not only because of her terrible driving but also because he'd discovered that she liked to play her music loud and he couldn't handle that much noise. Max liked his music much softer and wouldn't put it on at all if Jonah wasn't in the mood for it, which he wasn't today. When they all made it to Max's place, Jonah found himself put in the middle of the cuddle, which wasn't his usual place, but he was far from complaining about it.

"You make me feel so small all the time," Kinga said as she wrapped her arms around Jonah's arm. "Not emotionally, just physically."

"Well, you are small," Jonah said. "You're both small. And I'm very, very tall." He put his other arm around Max, who had snuggled up to his side and put his head on Jonah's shoulder. "I kind of like it though. I don't really fit in with the two of you."

"Of course you fit in with us," Max said. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I mean, I guess we all have our own things going on," Jonah said. "I was kind of lumping your issues together, but I guess you've got a mood disorder and she's got a personality disorder."

"We're all crazy," Kinga said. "Complementary flavors of crazy. Like Neapolitan ice cream."

"You're already strawberry," Jonah said to her with a laugh.

"Well, Max isn't vanilla," she shot back.

Max turned pink on Jonah's other side. "Don't kinkshame me."

"Oh, sweetness, shame is _not_ what I do with your kinks," she purred, and he turned a few shades darker pink. "God you're easy to rile up. Is he this easy with you?" she asked Jonah.

"I don't try to rile him up for the hell of it," Jonah said, rolling his eyes. "I only ever try to get him worked up if I intend to follow through on it."

"Unless you want to be responsible for my death, please stop before my hopes go in a direction they shouldn't," Max said, and both Kinga and Jonah fixed him with a look, one brow arched. "Never mind, I'm already doomed."

"What's a direction they shouldn't go?" Jonah asked, genuinely curious. Kinga snorted.

"C'mon, you're not really that innocent, are you? He's wanted to get us both in bed at the same time since we started this crazy arrangement." For a moment, Jonah just looked at Kinga, lips pulled to one side, and then he shrugged.

"Okay, so why don't we?" 

Kinga's jaw dropped. 

Max squeaked and buried his face against Jonah's shoulder. "Please don't tease me like this," he muttered into Jonah's hoodie, and Jonah reached up to scratch his nails through Max's hair.

"What? Wouldn't it make you happy?"

"You don't like me like that," Kinga said, and Jonah shrugged again.

"I like you more now than I did when we got started with this arrangement. And it's not like I'm offering to touch you. Well, unless you'd want me to. It's not totally out of the question, I could if you wanted me to."

"Have you ever actually _touched_ a woman before?" she asked, not cruelly.

"No. But I hadn't really touched a man before I got involved with Max and I think I'm doing okay with that."

"The two of you are honest to god going to be the death of me," Max said, and Kinga laughed.

"Good, now the blame is split between both of us instead of totally on my shoulders. I'm okay with that." She leaned around Jonah to fix Max with a devious smile. "What's wrong, sweetness, can't handle your significant others getting affectionate?"

"You are using privileged information against me," he accused, and her smile sharpened.

"What else should a best friend do, huh? I mean, you tell me all these things in moments of inebriated weakness, it would be lazy of me to _not_ try to facilitate your dreams, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Jonah asked. "I just feel like I should be clued in here."

"It's just theoretical," Max said quickly. "I don't even know if I would actually like it or if I just like the idea of it." Jonah made a _go on_ motion and Max ducked his head and mumbled into Jonah's shoulder, "I’ve just… thought for a long time that it would be hot if my partner slept with someone else in front of me?"

"Oh," Jonah said, and he hugged Max to reward him for his honesty. "Well, if you're into it, and she promises not to hurt me if I'm bad at it..."

"I never make promises not to hurt people," Kinga said. "But I won't hurt you because you're bad in bed."

"He's not bad in bed," Max said.

"I mean, I don't think I'm very good in bed yet, but I'll take a compliment..."

"Are you okay with me touching you that much?" Kinga asked, and Jonah swallowed hard before nodding. "Really?"

"If it's not okay, I'll let you know."

"Swear?"

"You're not going to take advantage of me," Jonah said. "I won't let you, but more than that, _he_ won't let you."

"He's right," Max said, and Kinga smiled.

"Good. Cause you know how I like to overreach."

"Do I ever," Max said dryly. "Can we make plans for this though? I don't want to rush into anything."

"We'll schedule it," Jonah said with a smile.

"Can we schedule it soon? Cause now that the idea's been broached, I _gotta_ admit I'm into it," Kinga said, and Jonah gave her a curious look. "What? Don't act like you don't know you're cute. He tells you often enough that it should have sank in by now."

"I thought you had a type," Jonah said, and Kinga snorted.

"I _do_ have a type." Jonah looked down at his miles of lanky limbs and then glanced at Max's also cute but much smaller and rounder body, and looked back at Kinga. "Not a physical type. How shallow do you think I am? I'm into nerds."

"Now," Max muttered, and she leaned around Jonah to stare at him. "You weren't into nerds when we met, that's all I'm saying. Your type used to be arrogant fuckboys. Blond ones."

"My tastes have matured from when I was the disaster you met me as," she said, rolling her eyes, and Max snorted.

"That's maybe thirty percent of the truth."

"Fine! I used to be into fuckboys because I thought they were what I deserved, okay? I didn't think I deserved someone who would treat me well. I didn't know what it _was_ to be treated well until I met you, and even then I wouldn't let you do it for years. You're the entire reason I'm into nerds. It's just a coincidence that your boyfriend is also a nerd."

"That's not a coincidence," Max said. "Nerds tend to cluster. And I'm super weak for hot people in glasses."

"Oh," Kinga said. "I knew that but I forgot it. I should wear mine more around you, now that I'm not trying to resist your charms."

"You wear glasses?" Jonah asked. "I can't imagine them on you."

"I have a bad habit of breaking them," she said. "Although I also have a bad habit of losing contacts."

"You have a lot of bad habits," Max said fondly. "But... yes, _please_ find them if you want to drive me to utter distraction without saying a word." Kinga bit her lip for a second, then reached up to gently remove Jonah's glasses from his face and slid them on.

"Give those back," Jonah said, squinting at her unhappily but not reaching for them, and Max put a hand on his chest.

"One second," he said weakly, "let me just... appreciate this for a second." Kinga smirked and blew him a kiss, and Max made a broken sound and pressed his hand to his mouth. "Okay. That's... yeah. Give them back to him now."

"God, you're easy," she laughed, handing Jonah his glasses.

"I'm not easy," Max said. "I just have a couple of very specific kinks that you like to play on mercilessly."

"No, I think she's right in this case, you're pretty easy," Jonah said.

"You're basically six and a half feet of everything I'm weak for! I don’t even care, lean on every weakness I have. I’ve never been happier than I am when I'm with the both of you."

"You're sweet," Jonah said, rubbing his scruffy cheek against Max's hair like an affectionate cat. "And you make me happy too. Really happy."

"It's nice spending time together like this," Kinga said, always edgy about putting words to how she felt, but she cuddled up closer to Jonah's side. Then her stomach growled.

"I'm supposed to be feeding you, aren't I? You distracted me with the sexy," Max said.

"What are we doing for dinner tonight?" Kinga asked.

"We agreed on sushi last week," Jonah reminded her.

"I've been practicing rolling," Max said cheerfully.

Jonah snorted. "You can't apply blunt rolling techniques to sushi."

"Just watch me. And, hey, the rice I started when we got here is probably about done by now," Max said, reluctantly removing himself from Jonah's side to go into the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to look back at them, started to say something, and then shook his head and went through. Neither Kinga nor Jonah noticed his hesitation, her eyes closed and his fixed on her under his furrowed brow.

"Do you _really_ want to do this or are you just doing it to make him happy?" Kinga asked, not looking up at Jonah. His reaction was easy to feel regardless, a jolt going through his whole lanky form.

"I don't not want to do it," he said, and she hissed between her teeth at him warningly. "What? You're concerning, okay? I can't tell if you keep warning me off you because you're actually planning on hurting me or because you don't trust yourself even far enough to keep a promise to not hurt me."

"You are _so_ annoying," she sighed. "It's a pain in my ass that you keep calling me out so bluntly, you know?"

"You just don't like being understood. But you want to be understood even though you don't like it."

"What do _you_ know about it?"

"I'm the other way around. I like being understood, but hardly anyone makes the effort to get me." Kinga sat up and opened her eyes to look at him then, head tilted slightly as she studied him. He glanced up to meet her eyes for just a second before he dropped his gaze to her arm pressed against his.

"Is anyone coming to help me or am I doing this alone?" Max called from the kitchen, and Jonah stood up with a smirk.

"He wants help, so I think you can chill out in here, strawberry."

"You _brat_ ," she yelped, getting up and following him into the kitchen. "I'll have you know I am a valuable member of this team in whatever minor role I can't fuck up."

"You are absolutely vital," Max agreed, handing her the paddle from the rice maker when she walked in. "You can put the rice on the nori. Jonah, if you want to cut the vegetables, I can cut the fish... everyone can make their rolls the way they like them before I roll them up."

"This is really cool," Jonah said, coming over to claim a peeler, a knife, and a cutting board along with a cucumber, an avocado, and a carrot. "I've never had homemade sushi before."

"I made it before once just to see if I could do it and then once to practice for this," Max said, going into the fridge to extract a nice piece of salmon and an even nicer piece of tuna that he'd picked up that morning. "It's not really worth doing for just myself, but it's not that difficult and I thought it would be fun to do together."

"Did you get the condiments too?" Kinga asked, and Max snorted a laugh through his nose.

"You'd riot if I didn't have your spicy play-doh and ginger. Of course I did."

"You're so good," she said, coming over to lean against him from behind while he sliced the fish into strips. "The best, even."

"He is the best," Jonah agreed, finishing peeling the cucumber into the trash before he set about cutting it up. "You're not half bad, either."

"That's almost sweet of you, sunflower," Kinga said, wrinkling her nose in Jonah's direction.

"You're probably about a third bad," he added, and she rolled her eyes at him. "But that makes you interesting."

"Don't approve of her bad behavior," Max said, setting down the knife. Kinga immediately picked it up and cut a sliver of salmon and made a kissy sound.

"Sheila... who's a good kitty?" The cat came trotting up with a "mrr?" and Kinga leaned down to drop the fish in front of her. It was devoured an instant later.

"Don't feed my cat—"

"It's not people food," Kinga cut Max off. "Fish is cat food too. And she loves it, just look at her."

"Fine, that's fair," he said, and cut a bit of tuna to feed Sheila next, letting her take it from his fingers and smiling when she licked his fingertips for more. Jonah looked over but didn't participate, still not on the best of terms with the furry menace, even if she would let him pet her without swatting him now. “Just don’t tease her with the wasabi again, that was mean of you.”

“She didn’t even taste it, she just sniffed it,” Kinga argued. “If she was dumb enough to taste it, she would have deserved it.”

“That’s not nice at all,” Jonah said, putting down the knife when he finished cutting the carrot into matchsticks. “She could have gotten hurt.”

“I wouldn’t have _let_ her eat it, Jesus. I just wanted to see what she did, and she made a funny face, which is exactly what I expected her to do.”

“Still not nice,” Jonah said again, and Kinga shrugged, leaning around him to steal some vegetables to start assembling her sushi roll. 

“I do a lot of things because I want to see what’ll happen. You _should_ know that by now.” He gave her a narrow-eyed look and she smirked at him. “Oh, don’t look so paranoid. As if you’re not going along with things that Max wants just to see what’ll happen.”

“That’s not why I’m going along with them,” Jonah said, offense in his voice. “I’m going along with them because I like making him happy.”

“I definitely want to see what’ll happen,” Max said. “But only because I think it’ll be good. Not because it’ll be funny.” He offered a plate with rice flattened on nori to Jonah before picking up his and starting with the fish, taking both salmon and tuna and fussily arranging it in the center of his rice. 

“I think it’ll be funny,” Kinga said. “I think it’ll be _hilarious_ to see the look on your face while you’re watching us. Cause I know how you look when you’re way too into something. That overly intense look in your eyes while you bite your lip.” 

“That's not what I do,” Max said, but Jonah shook his head. 

“No, she's right. You bite your lip a lot. It's very distracting.”

“Really?”

“At least once an hour. A _lot_.”

“I don't even realize I'm doing it most of the time.”

“You know you're doing it some of the time,” Kinga accused, nudging Max's side with her elbow as she came over beside him. “A classic Max maneuver. Hey, notice my mouth and then kiss it.”

“It's super effective,” Jonah said. “But I lowkey always want to kiss him anyways.” 

“Right? Same. He’s very kissable.” Max shot a look at her, and she put down her plate on the counter and caught his face between both hands to kiss him. “Mm. Yes. Like that.”

“I’m okay with being kissed at any time,” Max said. “Just for the record. Kiss me whenever. I'm strongly in favor of this.” He stole a few strips of cucumber for his sushi and then put his plate down on the counter. “Okay, check this out…” He dampened the edge of the nori and then slowly but steadily rolled it up until it was a slightly lumpy cylinder. “And then it just has to be cut,” he said, demonstrating how easily it sliced with his chef’s knife.

“Neat,” Kinga said, handing him her plate next. She’d gone for salmon, avocado, and carrot, and had added a line of wasabi right into the roll. She grinned when he handed it back to her all rolled up. “Are you _really_ letting me handle a knife?”

“No,” he said, and took it back. “Not this knife, anyways. It’s the sharpest one I have.” He sliced her sushi into more or less equal bites and then gave it back to her. Jonah handed him a plate with a bit of everything in his roll, and Max struggled a little to seal it up around the very stuffed center but managed it after a second attempt and cut that up too.

The three of them took their sushi out to the living room to eat, putting Jonah in the middle on the couch again. Kinga tapped her foot against his leg until he trapped it between his leg and the couch and attempted to steal a piece of her sushi to put her on the defensive and get her to stop bugging him. None of them were satisfied by one roll, and by the time they’d finished clearing the coffee table of their dishes after round two and a few episodes of Futurama, everyone felt a little dozy and lazy from so much good food.

“I’ll bring you home in the morning if you stay here tonight,” Kinga said. She was highly envious of Jonah’s work-from-home position, but his seizure disorder preventing him from being able to drive was a good reason for his job to accommodate for his disability, and unlike her, he had no problem working under a deadline.

“Okay.” Jonah nodded. Max put a hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

“I’m getting you both in my bed at the same time,” Max said, voice pitched higher with excitement. “Oh, man, I have— I have _dreamed_ of this.”

“Of sleeping between us?” Kinga asked. “Because I am too full of sushi for anything more than sprawling against you in bed right now.”

“Yes, actually. Not only, not even primarily, but yes, falling asleep and then waking up between you is a very frequent daydream.”

“You’re such a romantic, snickerdoodle,” Jonah said, immense fondness in his voice. “It’s cute. I like how innocent some of the things you daydream about are.”

“This is rarely an innocent one,” Max admitted easily. “Usually the content of the daydream involves us collapsing in a passionate heap and then waking up to wear each other out again.”

“Ooh, you’ve got my attention,” Kinga said. “Tell me more about the morning sex part of this plan, I’m a big fan of morning sex.”

“I will gladly elaborate if you’ll follow me into the bedroom,” Max said, and Kinga didn’t wait for him to lead the way. 

She’d gotten defensive of her place on the right side of the bed unless she was being put in the middle of a cuddle, but it seemed safer to leave Max between herself and Jonah, at least at first. Max shed most of his clothes before getting into bed, but Jonah only took off his pants and his glasses, leaving him in boxers and his yellow hoodie unzipped but still on over a t-shirt with a Cylon from the original Battlestar Galactica on it. She wasn’t going to call out his comfort object; if he still didn’t want her to see him out of it, that was something they’d have to work on between them. She ditched her pants and her bra too, climbing into bed in a t-shirt and hipster panties and molding herself along Max’s side.

“So… morning sex?” she asked hopefully.

“Is that what you want?” Max asked.

“Almost every morning,” Kinga replied, “and _definitely_ every time I wake up here.”

“I’m okay with morning sex,” Jonah said, getting himself arranged on Max’s other side. “I mean, theoretically for the most part, but I’m open to experience. I like being touched more when I wake up than after I’ve been awake for a while most days.”

“Wake Jonah up with touching, check,” Kinga said. She reached over Max to brush her fingers against Jonah's arm, looking at them both with a fond, sleepy smile. “I like being woken up by being touched too.” 

“Well, the way you grope me in the morning made me think you preferred to instigate,” Max said, and she rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers against his chest.

“I _have_ to instigate, you get all weird about touching me anywhere _interesting_ before I’m awake.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to! If you want me to wake you up in a sexy fashion, all you have to do is say so.” Max kissed Kinga’s forehead and she smirked at him.

“Then do that all the time from now on,” she said. “Kiss my neck and touch me all over and I’ll wake up in a great mood.”

“Please don’t touch me all over to wake me up,” Jonah said. “I think that would probably be jarring. Just, I don’t know… pet my hair or shake my shoulder or do something so I’m awake enough to know what’s going on before you grab any privileged access bits of me, please.”

“Of course,” Max said.

“Aren’t _all_ of your bits privileged access?” Kinga asked, plucking at the sleeve of Jonah’s hoodie. “Or most of them, anyways.”

“You know what I mean,” Jonah sighed. “And I thought you wanted access to them.”

“Do I ever,” she said with a leer. “But I promise to make sure you’re awake in the morning before I climb on top of you.” His eyes went wide, and she reached over to rub her fingers against his scruffy cheek. “I’m only into it if you’re into it, if you change your mind then let me know, okay? I don’t want to like, pressure you into doing anything.”

“I believe I’m the one who suggested we do this, once you made it known,” Jonah said. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Well, if you do—”

“I won’t.”

“Okay! If you say so.”

“Just remember to wake me up too, don’t pounce him without me,” Max said dryly, and found himself being kissed on both cheeks.

“Well, yeah, you watching is like sixty percent of the point,” Kinga said.

“Sixty percent?” Max asked.

“The rest is satisfaction of my own curiosity,” she said, putting her hand on top of Jonah’s on Max’s chest. “Cause you’ve raved about how much you like Jonah touching you, I _have_ to get those giant mitts on me and find out for myself.”

“You talk about me?” Jonah asked.

Kinga snorted. “Uh, yeah? Doesn’t Max talk to you about me?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“I don’t share details about my sex life with either of you to the other one,” Max said. “But yeah, of _course_ I talk about you with each other, you’re both very important to me and… at least kind of important to each other, right?”

“Yes,” Kinga said, and Jonah’s brows shot up. “You’re both important to me.”

“I didn’t think I mattered that much to you,” Jonah said.

“Yeah, well, you grew on me, okay? You’re a sweet guy, and thanks to Max I can finally appreciate that quality without trying to leverage it to my advantage. Mostly.”

“You’re a very weird person, Kinga,” Jonah said solemnly, but he moved his hand to cover hers. “But you’re important to me too.” She threaded her fingers through his and huffed a laugh at how small her hand seemed in his.

“Are we going to have to update our relationship manual?” Max said. The notebook he’d written down all of their needs and avoidances in when they’d started this arrangement had continued to be added to over the months, pages filling with records of successful dates and ones that had gone less well, an ever increasing list of ridiculous pet names, and additional terms and conditions as their personal quirks came to light and required accommodations. 

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow,” Kinga said. “Cause this _could_ be a disaster. Maybe we’re totally incompatible in bed. We don’t know how this will go.”

“I’d rather not assume it will be a disaster,” Jonah said. 

“I don’t think it _will_ be a disaster,” Kinga said. “I just think that we should see how it does go.”

“That’s fair,” Max said. “Thank you, both of you. For indulging me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Kinga said. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been wondering for a while and now I’ll get to see what happens when we give it a shot.”

“Am I the only one of us who hasn’t been thinking about it?” Jonah asked. “If it’s Max’s fantasy, and if Kinga knew about it all along…”

“You’ve never thought about kissing me?” Kinga asked, a hint of hurt in her voice, and Jonah shook his head.

“No, no, of course I’ve thought about _kissing_ you, it’s the _rest_ of it I didn’t think about.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take it nice and slow for you, sunflower.” Jonah narrowed his eyes at her, not sure if she was teasing him or being thoughtful, and she blew a kiss at him. “I have to be careful, right? I don’t want to trip over any of your sensory things.”

“Just don’t scream or hurt me and I’ll be fine. Be as nice as you can manage to be, okay?”

“I think I can do that.” 

“She can be very nice when she wants to be,” Max said. “But she’s like a cat. She still likes to bite and scratch even when she’s trying to display affection.”

“Excuse me, don’t compare me to your bitchy kitty,” Kinga said in a tone of pure offense.

“I said _a_ cat, not _my_ cat.” Max reached up to stroke her hair, and she arched her brows and purred sarcastically. “Can we go to sleep now? I’m very excited to wake up tomorrow.”

“Like a kid on Christmas Eve,” she teased, and Max wrinkled his nose at her.

“Christmas is always bad for me, you know that.”

“Kinkmas Eve?” Jonah suggested, earning a snort of laughter from Max and a groan from Kinga. “We threesome kings? Oh, I know… oh come, all ye faithful.”

“Stop,” Kinga said, covering his mouth with her hand. “Cease and desist.” Jonah blinked at her, dark eyes wide without his glasses framing them, and then licked her fingers. She wiped her hand on his scruffy cheek, shaking her head. “Keep making puns and I won’t be able to be nice.”

“I’m sorry for the seasonally inappropriate jokes,” Jonah said with a roll of his eyes. “But I will not apologize for making puns.”

“Please don’t threaten him over his sense of humor,” Max said. “Because he’s really fucking funny and I like his puns.”

“You already know the punishment for puns,” Kinga said. Max gently reached up, put his hand on the side of her face, and pushed her into the pillow next to him. 

“Go to sleep, pun police.”

“Good night,” Jonah said, turning off the light before cuddling up to Max’s back and throwing an arm around both his waist and Kinga’s. “And, uh, sorry about the snoring.”

“Two snorers in one bed, _marvelous_. Race you to unconscious,” Kinga snarked. It was an easy bet that she would fall asleep first, though: Max always took at least a half an hour to wind down the litany of worries constantly echoing in the back of his mind, and Jonah’s imagination was going a little too hyperactive about the possibilities in the morning of something he hadn’t really considered before that night to let him doze off in any hurry. 

Max woke up first, not long after the sun rose. He opened his eyes to find Kinga half on top of him with her fingers curled into his shoulder, a usual state of affairs, and Jonah curled up nearly fetal next to him, back pressed to Max’s arm, a very unusual one. At some point in the night Jonah had taken off his hoodie and folded it on his pillow, and one hand gripped the soft, well-worn yellow fabric tightly. He wasn’t snoring, but Max could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. When Max pressed the back of his hand against Jonah’s hip, he got a soft wordless murmur in response but no movement. When his other hand brushed Kinga’s back, she stirred, clutching him a little closer.

Weighing the danger of waking her before seven a.m. against the fact that two of them had day jobs they had to get to on time, Max kissed her hair and smoothed his hand up and down her back. She made a grumbly sound until he reached down to squeeze her butt, and then she hummed and turned her face up to him without opening her eyes. 

“Good morning,” he breathed, and she hummed again. Her eyes flew open when he kissed her and then slid shut again. Her hand disengaged from his shoulder and went directly into his curls. 

“Oh, it _will_ be,” she whispered when their lips parted. Green eyes glanced over and refocused on him with a grin below them. “Can I wake him up?”

“Be nice,” Max said, “and I’m helping.” 

“Obviously.” Kinga’s hand settled on Jonah’s waist, while Max’s went up to bury in messy dark hair and scratch gently at Jonah’s scalp.

“Oh,” Jonah said, pressing his face into his hoodie, and Kinga lifted her hand.

“Did he say no?” 

“I don’t think that’s what he said…” Max leaned in and kissed the back of Jonah’s neck. “Jonah?”

“Hmm… yes?” 

“Good morning,” Kinga said, replacing her hand and squeezing him gently. 

Jonah uncurled from his protective posture and stretched out, yawning widely. “Oh… yeah, it is.” He turned onto his back and immediately found Kinga on top of him. “Uh, hi.”

“You have ink,” she said, tilting her head and his arm to check it out. “I’ve never seen your bare arms before.”

“I thought you wanted to see my bare everything,” he said, and she smiled. 

“I’m just surprised to see this much of you this quickly.”

“I thought it would be easier,” he said, looking down at his hands on her hips. “I’d made the choice, it didn’t need to be dragged out.”

“Well, I like your penguin a lot.” Kinga traced his tattoo with a single nail, and Jonah shivered under her touch. “I didn’t take you for the tattoo type.”

“I didn’t like the experience but I like the results. And it wasn’t terrible with earplugs in.” Jonah looked over to find Max watching them. He might as well have had cartoon hearts in his eyes for how blatantly adoringly he was gazing at them. “So am I just at her mercy now or what?”

“You could always _tell_ me what you like,” she said before Max could say anything. “Unless you’re too shy to express your desires.”

“I’m not shy, I’m introverted. There’s a difference,” Jonah said, and Kinga rolled her eyes and leaned down to kiss him. After a second’s hesitation he let her in, but she stayed polite instead of ravishing him like she thought she’d want to do once she finally got to kiss him. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and gently tugged, and she laughed as she pulled back.

“You kiss like Max kisses,” she said, amusement written all over her face.

“I mean, I did learn how to do it well from him,” Jonah said, flushed from his instinctual reaction to being laughed at more than the intimacy of having her straddling his waist. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“Not at all. That level of sweetness suits the both of you.” She rubbed her fingers against his stubbled cheek and smirked. “Same kiss, with or without the sandpaper finish.”

“You could stand to be a little more polished,” Max said dryly, and Kinga rolled her eyes.

“I thought my rough edges were part of my charm.”

“The phrase ‘a diamond in the rough’ implies room for improvement, dear.”

“I don’t need to be improved, I’m already perfect,” she said in that offhand tone that meant she was really thinking about how much she hated herself. Max put his hand on her back and smiled up at her.

“Well, you don’t need to change. I love you just as you are.”

“Yeah, you better.” She smirked at him and then turned her attention back to Jonah. “Well? Is there something you’d like me to do, or are you putting yourself at my mercy now?” she teased.

“I like being kissed on places besides my lips,” Jonah said, and her eyes lit up.

“That’s a lot of territory,” she said. “Can I leave marks to stake my claim, or are you delicate?”

“I’m not _delicate_ ,” he said scornfully. “I just… haven’t had marks left on me for good reasons before. Only bad ones.”

“Max, you’re slacking,” Kinga chided. “This much lanky nerd and no love bites _anywhere_? I’m shocked.”

“You like to bite more than anyone I know,” Max said. “And much more than I do. You know I mark you because you want me to so badly.”

“Well, at least I won’t be stepping on your toes while I figure out how Jonah and I work together,” she said.

“Can you leave marks without hurting me?” Jonah asked.

Kinga grinned at him. “Depends on your pain tolerance. Want to find out?” 

He hesitated for a second and then nodded. “Just not any place people will see.”

“Well, considering this is the first time I’ve ever seen you out of your hoodie, I feel like most of you is fair game under that rule.” Gently, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged his head to one side. His breath caught in his throat when she scraped her teeth against the edge of his stubbled jaw and left him in a rush when she trailed her lips down the side of his neck. “Just tell me when it’s not fun anymore,” she added as she pulled the collar of his t-shirt aside.

“O-okay.” The hiccup was when she sank her teeth into the curve of his shoulder, not much pressure at first, a careful love bite that made him hum thoughtfully. “You can do that harder,” he said after a moment of her gently chewing on him. “Maybe twice as hard?” She huffed a laugh into his skin and bit down, twice as hard as hardly anything being still not much. Jonah glanced at Max and decided to up the ante just to see how he’d react. “Bite me as hard as you want to bite me,” he said. Max gasped, one hand flying to cover his mouth.

Kinga _growled_ and lifted her head. “You _don’t_ want me to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Jonah insisted. “I didn’t say bite me as hard as you can, I said bite me as hard as you want to. If you want to be nice to me, you can. You’re holding yourself back way too much now, though.” Max was biting down on one finger, barely blinking. Jonah had never seen someone that transfixed by what he was doing before in his life.

“Your expectations of my behavior give me too much credit,” she said, and it sounded like an insult aimed at him and not her. “You are a pain in my ass, Jonah.” 

“We don’t have to keep going if you’re not comfortable,” he said sarcastically, looking up at her for just a second before his gaze drifted to her bare legs wrapped around his waist. “If you really can’t trust yourself to not hurt me on purpose.”

“Oh, it’s on, sunflower. Don’t be brave, let me know what’s enough.” This time when Kinga bit him, Jonah whimpered, not because it was too much but because he could really feel it now. It felt like she was taking him seriously, finally, accepting his challenge and rising to meet it instead of writing herself off because of whatever demons in her head made her believe the worst in herself. He settled a hand on the back of her neck and she purred and sucked on his skin as she dug her teeth in.

“That—” Jonah licked his lips and sighed, “that feels really nice.” It was a sharp-edged sensation, keenly felt and warped through the lens of her hot-and-cold expressions of affection to read more like pleasure than like pain. She didn’t bite any harder in response, just nibbled on him for a moment before lifting her head again to inspect her work.

“That should leave a nice one,” she said, tracing the edge of the skin she’d reddened. “I can’t wait to see how you bruise. That wasn’t too hard?”

“No, that was good. You can keep going.”

“Then you need to take off your shirt.” He curled up to pull it over his head. The shirt caught and twisted in her hand before he could get it off his arms, and he licked his lips and met her fierce gaze above him, his wrists trapped against the headboard of Max’s bed. 

“I guess I’m really at your mercy now.” Jonah didn’t struggle at all, but he did bite his lip hopefully. Her focus dropped to his mouth, and she laughed.

“Notice my mouth and then kiss it,” she said, and glanced over at their rapt voyeur. “Max, what have you done to this poor boy?” She didn’t wait for an answer to give Jonah the kiss he clearly wanted, biting his lip for him to an appreciative sigh.

“At least I’m modeling good behaviors?” Being addressed directly seemed to rouse Max from his reverie, or at least he blinked a couple of times. “I definitely didn’t ruin him.”

“Mm, no, ruin is not the word,” Kinga purred as she pulled back, turning her smirk on Max only to be matched by his equally mischievous smile. “It’s cute.” She tapped her nose against Jonah’s and offered him the smirk next. “He’s the 101. Hope you’re ready to level up.”

“Excuse me,” Max said. “Being into pain doesn’t make you _advanced_ , it just makes you kinky in a different direction. Not being oriented that way doesn’t mean I’m basic.”

“This isn’t an upper level course, this is a different class,” Jonah said, and Max nodded. “But I’m at my desk with my pencil in hand so can I take the course already?”

“Not _quite_ in hand,” Kinga said with a shift of her hips that brought her on top of the metaphor, and Jonah’s lashes fluttered when she ground against his cock. “But while I have your attention…” She let go of his wrists and leaned down to close her teeth around one of his nipples.

“Oh… _Ow_.” She started to pull back and he caught the back of her neck to hold her there. “No, don’t stop, just a little gentler?” Teeth were replaced by her circling tongue, and he shivered through his whole rangy body, toes curling under the blankets they’d only half tossed off. “Do you—ahhh. Do you bite because you want to be bitten?”

“That’s not _the_ reason but it’s _a_ reason,” she said into his chest, and thumped her head against his solar plexus. “Stop reading me.”

“Why? That would be stupid. If this is a class, teach me what you want.”

She lifted her head slowly and curled her hands around his shoulders, nails digging in just a little bit. “I _want_ to do about a dozen different things to you and half of them I don’t want you to do back to me but you should totally use them against Max.”

“I’m already a fan of this lesson plan. How about we start with what I should do to you and work our way around to you weaponizing me.”

“Weaponizing,” Kinga said delightedly. 

“Unfair,” Max said, but he didn’t sound unhappy about it. 

“If I learn both your tricks then you’ll be catching up to me,” Jonah said, barely restraining a grin.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid,” Kinga said, and Jonah narrowed his eyes at her. “Here, lesson one: keep your hands occupied.” She sat up, grabbed his hands, and brought them up to her breasts, gasping when she realized just how wide the span of his fingers was on her petite form. 

“You’re so small,” he said, moving his hands to her waist just to see how much of her he could hold before sliding them back up underneath her t-shirt. Her back arched as he felt her up, tracing her shape with just his fingertips at first, then palming her breasts, a look of complete fascination on his face even before she reached up to yank off her shirt and let him see what he was doing. “And beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Kinga said, “it’s not easy being this pretty.” She hummed when he pinched her nipples, settling her hands on his sides and teasing him with her nails. Jonah twitched and knocked her hands away, and she put them flat on the bed to either side of him. “No good?”

“I don’t like being tickled. It reminds me of having a seizure when I can’t control my reaction.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s something Max likes.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been dating him for a while,” Jonah said dryly. “Do _you_ like it?”

“It makes me kick and scream… but it also makes me really wet,” Kinga said, and Jonah studied her for a minute.

“Well, I don’t want you to scream. What else could I do to make you really wet?” 

“Bite her,” Max said promptly. “Find a place where she’s soft and leave teeth marks there.” Kinga glanced at him sideways.

“So it’s an arms race,” she said.

“I’m not actually a weapon,” Jonah said.

“Good, because neither of us is attempting to use you to do any kind of harm,” Max said, leaning in to kiss Jonah’s scruffy cheek. “All of these tricks just make us happier.”

“I like making you happy,” Jonah said, turning his head for a better kiss. “And I like Kinga better when she’s happy, so learning how to make her happy is a good thing,” he added.

“You don’t have to bite me much right now. I’m already _really_ revved up. And it feels like we’re on the same page,” Kinga said, wiggling her hips a little and laughing when Jonah whimpered at the friction of their underwear separating them. “I guess we can call biting lesson two. You’ll be graded at the end of the class.”

“I test well,” Jonah said, and sat up to do as he’d been told, closing his teeth around the soft outer curve of her right breast and applying pressure. He shut his eyes and remembered what she’d done to him before sucking on his mouthful of her, harder than she’d done to him but not as hard as he’d been afraid she’d do. She let out a low, wordless yowl and tangled her hand in his hair, not to pull him away but to keep him right where he was.

“The two of you are _ridiculously_ hot,” Max breathed. Kinga looked over to find him palming himself through his boxers and her eyes widened.

“We’re all on the same page,” she purred, reaching over to thread her fingers through his and make him squeeze. 

“ _Oh_ …” 

“I love the sound you make when I grab you.”

“You grab me a lot.”

“Yeah. I _just_ told you why.”

“That’s—that’s fair,” Max gasped, letting her hand guide his to stroke himself. Kinga gasped herself a beat later when Jonah released his determined biting and fell back into the pillows, bringing her with him when she didn’t let go of his hair. 

“How was that?” Jonah asked, fingers brushing over the vividly red mark he’d left on her pale, freckle-spattered skin. 

“You get an A,” she said, and let go of both of them to sit up again, looking Jonah up and down with a heavy-lidded gaze. He settled his hands on her thighs, but she didn’t stay still for long. “I’m impatient. Lesson three?”

“What’s lesson three?” Jonah asked, and she smirked.

“Riding lessons.” She tugged at his boxers and made a victorious sound when he lifted his hips to let her pull them down, but left them tangled halfway down his thighs, only pulling them low enough to let his cock spring free. “Assuming you’re okay with topping from the bottom.”

“Don’t confuse me,” Jonah said. “I figured— _mmm_ —you’d want me underneath you this whole time anyways.” His sentence broke when she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked once, taking the shape of him.

“This time,” she said, “but definitely not every time. I have _got_ to find out what it’s like to have you wrapped around me.” She shifted around on top of him until she could kick off her panties, and when she resettled astride his thighs, his hands curled around her hips, thumbs just barely reaching between her legs. Her lip caught between her teeth as she looked down and wrapped both her hands around his cock, not quite enough to encompass his entire length in them.

“You’ll feel safe,” Max said. “Or that’s how I feel underneath him, at least. Safe, and cherished.”

“I don’t know if I’ll feel _cherished_ ,” she said, a hint of scorn in her words, “I don’t think he cherishes me.”

“I don’t think you can tell me how I feel about you,” Jonah said, breathless from the way she was handling him but determined to make his point. “You can’t stop me from cherishing you if that’s what I want to do.”

“But _do_ you?”

“Understanding you is a step toward cherishing you, and you act like I’m such a pain in the ass for trying to understand you. But I’m not going to stop trying.”

“Sunflower, you are something else.” Kinga shifted onto her knees and moved to tease the tip of his cock against her entrance. “You ready for this?”

“Yes. Please. I need you,” Jonah said, but Kinga was looking at Max, waiting for his eagerly given nod. She fixed her eyes on Jonah once she got that, finding him wide-eyed and willing, and she grinned as she guided him in. “Oh, what about—” Whatever he meant to say was lost in his gasp when she didn’t go slow, taking half his considerable length in one shift of her hips.

“Fuck!” Her eyes rolled back and she caught herself with both hands on his chest, breath shuddering through her as her body expressed pleasure by leaving her shivering atop him. Jonah’s hands slid up to her waist, holding her gently but firmly as they both moved just a little bit: a slight twitch of his hips filling her that much more, her nails digging into his skin just enough to spark sensation. “ _Fuck_ ,” she said again, the curse gone thick on her tongue, more of a benediction than a bane, _yes_ and _please_ and _more_ wrapped up in her favorite swear.

Jonah didn’t have any trouble interpreting it. He pulled her down onto him, drawing their hips together and impaling her on his cock until she let out a whine and pushed against his chest. “Too much?” he breathed. It was almost too much for him, but Kinga wasn’t hurting him in the least, her slick heat encompassing him proving the affection she pretended not to feel as strongly as she did.

“No,” she lied, and moved one hand to dig her nails into her own leg, literally clawing herself back into control. She ached around him, more full than she’d ever felt before, but it hurt in the way she liked, an abundance of sensation and a challenge to herself to push her limits. “I can take whatever you’ve got to give me.” That was probably a lie too. She’d always felt like Max filled her up perfectly, since that first star-crossed time they’d fallen into this bed together; she wasn’t sure that Jonah would even completely fit inside her, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t try to make it happen. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonah said, but his protest trailed off when she rolled her hips, pulling almost off him and then taking him in again, a little deeper than before. 

“Lesson four,” Kinga said. “I _want_ you to hurt me. Not badly. But that’s what I like. Don’t worry about doing it. Think about how to do it well.” Next to them, Max fought back a whimper into the hand he’d pressed to his mouth, but she was too focused on the look of dawning comprehension spreading across Jonah’s face to even glance to the side. 

“Biting is just one way to do that…” Jonah reached up to cup one breast and pinched her nipple roughly, and she purred.

“You’re a quick study.”

“When I’m motivated, but this is excellent motivation,” he said, using the hand still on her hip to guide her up and down before biting his lip and using his own hips, dragging a yowl out of her throat with every thrust.

“ _Yes_.” It hurt in a glorious, incandescent kind of way, like they were kindling a star between them, like he was filling her with summer sunlight. She reached down to toy with her clit, just needing a little more sensation to let the radiance overwhelm her, and found her hand being knocked aside by Max’s, their boyfriend not satisfied to play voyeur any more instead of playing with her. “Yes, yes, _please_ …” 

“Don’t stop,” Max said, and Jonah didn’t, caught up in the dizzyingly hot clench of her cunt around him as Max’s fingers teased her over the edge. 

Kinga shoved the side of her hand into her mouth to stifle the scream she couldn’t help making when Jonah stuffed her absolutely full, her whole body going tense and then dissolving into shivers. 

“Fuck!” Jonah gasped, arms wrapping around her as she melted against him, his hips twitching into her. His head turned to find Max clinging to his side, dark eyes wide and dazed as if he’d just received a revelation, much-bitten lip caught between his teeth again. “ _Oh_ —” Usually eye contact felt uncomfortable, but Jonah couldn’t blink, lost in the depths of Max’s devoted gaze until his climax crashed over him and forced his eyes shut.

Kinga stirred first, pulling against Jonah’s arms until he let her go. She grabbed Max by the hip and shoved him onto his back, her eyes fixed on his cock as she licked her lips. “Max? Yes?”

“Please,” he said, parting his legs for her to settle herself between. The smirk on her face didn’t last long before she took him in her mouth, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. Threading his fingers through her hair, his hand tightened, not a yank but a steady pull that made her purr, and she slid her lips down around him.

“Should I still be taking notes?” Jonah asked weakly, and Max turned to him with a breath of a laugh.

“You should kiss me.” That was a request Jonah was always eager to fulfill. He reached up to tangle his fingers in Max’s curls and took over biting Max’s lip for him, a little rougher than he usually was. Max whimpered, practically in nirvana caught between them. Every little sound Kinga ever got out of him only made her need to make him do it again, and she reached up to drag her nails down his soft sides. Bursting into laughter, Max shivered under her touch, but the upward twitch of his hips drove him into her willing mouth and she sucked on him as she pulled off slowly. 

“Yes, you should still be paying attention,” she said. “This is the lesson we skipped.” She tickled Max again and he squirmed and giggled. Jonah tapped his nose against Max’s before lifting his head.

“I told you, I’ve learned this already,” he said, demonstrating his competence by tickling Max’s armpit. Max yelped and swatted at his hand.

“Noooo,” he said, not a _stop_ but an expression of amused dismay. “You _did_ weaponize him! Go back to putting your mouths on me, I like that better!”

“Whatever you want, sweetness,” Kinga said, and lowered her head to pick up where she’d left off. Jonah cupped Max’s flushed cheek and closed the distance between them to taste the cry that Kinga drew out of him with a careful scrape of her teeth. She cupped his balls and blew around his cock and he whimpered at her dirty tricks, so close to coming that the hum of her growl in response did him in a breath later. 

“Ah!” Max’s hand tightened in Kinga’s hair, holding her still as his hips snapped, and she dug her nails into his hip and pushed him back into the bed, pulling off only when she’d sucked him clean.

“Impolite,” she said in a throaty, pleased voice, and Jonah laughed as he released Max, looking down at her with both brows arched.

“You loved it,” he said. “You loved all of it.”

“Doesn’t make it less impolite.” 

“I know she loves it,” Max said, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. “I know she loves calling me out, too.”

“I love _you_ , nerd,” Kinga said, and stretched her arms over her head with a yawn before falling onto the bed next to Max. “Oh my god, that was the best first hour of a day I’ve ever had in my _life_.”

“I don’t think that was an entire hour,” Jonah said, wiping at his thigh with a puzzled look for a moment before his eyes widened. “We forgot—we didn’t use a condom,” he said, and Kinga snorted.

“I have an IUD. I hate condoms. They’re the worst. And it’s not like you’re a risk vector.”

“Well, no,” Jonah said.

“If I can trust you with Max, I can trust you myself,” she said, propping her head up on one hand to look across Max at him. “And I do trust you. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes is not a big enough word,” Jonah said. “Did _you_ enjoy yourself?” he asked, nudging Max, and Max gave him a wide-eyed look.

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the two of you together,” Max said softly. “Thank you for giving me that. It was a gift. I feel dizzy from how much I love you both.”

“If that was a gift, I think we all received it,” Kinga said. “Or at least, I feel that way too.”

“Please let me make another Kinkmas joke,” Jonah said, and Kinga huffed and rolled her eyes.

“No.”

“Come on!”

“ _No!_ ”

“Make the joke,” Max said, reaching for Kinga’s wrist to keep her from retaliating for whatever pun Jonah was about to unleash.

“It’s a Kinkmas miracle and we’ve all been blessed,” Jonah said, and Kinga groaned.

“I’ll show you what blessed looks like.”

“Uh, yeah, you pretty much just did. Do I pass the class?”

“With flying colors. Can we do this together like, all the time now? Please?” 

“I guess we do need to update the relationship manual after all,” Max said. “I would very much like that.”

“Define all the time,” Jonah said. 

“Every Friday morning and any other night the three of us spend together?” Kinga hazarded.

“I’m okay with that, as long as I can opt out at will,” Jonah said.

“Well, obviously, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to,” she said. “But I hope you’ll want to.”

On the bedside table, Max’s phone started beeping. He sighed and reached over Kinga to swipe the alarm off. “I have to be at work in an hour and a half.”

“Ugh, so do I,” Kinga said. “That doesn’t mean we have to get out of bed right this instant, does it?” She wrapped an arm around Max and batted her eyes at him. “We can cuddle a little more?”

“Not if you’re bringing Jonah home,” Max said. “But we can if I bring him home on my way to work. So… yes.”

“Nice,” Jonah said. He put his arm around Max and settled his hand on Kinga’s waist, then tickled her side.

“ _No_ ,” she said, crushing his hand between her side and her arm to still his fingers. “Absolutely not.”

“That’s fair,” Jonah said easily, “I had to try.”

“Don’t get me riled up if there’s no time to settle me back down, you big jerk.”

“I’m not a jerk! I just forgot. I got a lot to process this morning.”

“Also fair,” she conceded.

“No tickling. Just cuddling,” Max said. “Ugh, I don’t want to go to work. I want to stay here with you all day long.” He shifted to put his head on Jonah’s shoulder, and Jonah pressed his nose into silvering curls and sighed deeply.

“I wish,” Kinga said. “I’d love to call out. No one cares if I’m there, I don’t make that much of a difference.” Max petted her hair, and she sighed too.

“That’s sad,” Jonah said. “You deserve a job you don’t hate.”

“I’ve never had a job I don’t hate,” she said. “ _Ever_. At least this one I don’t have to deal with people face to face. Could be worse, could be retail.”

“I don’t hate my job, I just hate a lot of the people at my job,” Max said. “Being with the two of you is—” He cut himself off and completed the sigh trifecta.

“Being with us is what?” Jonah asked after a moment.

“It’s the only time I feel like I can be myself without pretending to be more than I am. More sane, or more patient, or more knowledgeable, or more authoritative. I don’t have to impress you.”

“You’re more all of those things than me without pretending,” Kinga said. “You’re impressive without trying to impress me.”

“What she said,” Jonah agreed. “You’re great.”

“ _You’re_ great,” Max said.

“We’re all great,” Kinga said, “and we’re great together, so let’s run with it, okay?” She snuggled a little harder against Max’s side, and with a murmur of agreement, Jonah cuddled up to his other side and got his arms around her too, settling in for the last few minutes of cuddling they could steal before the demands of adulting pulled them apart. 


	6. companion fanmix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes more sense to put the fanmix in with the fic, right? Here it is.

**What a Tangled Web We Weave**

a fic mix

[[link]](https://open.spotify.com/user/speccygeek/playlist/7ANFfpx8CDa96KuYL7hHzw?si=_2wZvSfiTxeaWsQSfgeMEw)

 

**Rilo Kiley - The Good That Won’t Come Out**

 

> _I do this thing where I think I’m real sick_ _  
>  _ _But I won't go to the doctor to find out about it_ _  
>  _ _'Cause they make you stand real still in a real small place_ _  
>  _ _As they chartup your insides and put them on display_ _  
>  _ _They'd see all of it, all of me, all of it_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _All of the good that won't come out of me_ _  
>  _ _And all the stupid lies I hide behind_ _  
>  _ _It's such a big mistake, lying here in your warm embrace_

 

**John K. Samson - 17th Street Treatment Centre**

 

> _In for three weeks or in for forever,_
> 
> _here at the 17th Street Treatment Centre._
> 
> _Most of us probably not getting better,_
> 
> _but not getting better together._

 

**Motion City Soundtrack - A Life Less Ordinary (Need a Little Help)**

 

> _I always knew I had the answer_ _  
>  _ _But I never understood the question_ _  
>  _ _Indoor living lacerated to the bone_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _And now we've realigned the edges_ _  
>  _ _I'm doing very well I thank you_ _  
>  _ _All this empathy is starting to wear me down_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wish I was someone else_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I think I can figure it out,_ _  
>  _ _But I'm gonna need a little help to get me_ _  
>  _ _Need a little help to get me._ _  
>  _ _I think I can figure it out,_ _  
>  _ _But I'm gonna need a little help to get me through it_ _  
>  _ _To get me through it_

 

**The Shins - Heartworms**

 

> _Well I guess I'm just here to test your patience_ _  
>  _ _Cause you're so smart my tricks don't work at all_ _  
>  _ _Is it my lack of education? Just tell me why_ _  
>  _ _You never call_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Behind your symmetry lies a fundamental difference_ _  
>  _ _There are those who own their minds and those who call_ _  
>  _ _No offense but, in between the lines I'm reading_ _  
>  _ _You look out for your own, and you're gonna look at me that way_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _And it's true_ _  
>  _ _So what can I do?_

 

**Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea**

 

> _What a beautiful face_ _  
>  _ _I have found in this place_ _  
>  _ _That is circling all round the sun_ _  
>  _ _What a beautiful dream_ _  
>  _ _That could flash on the screen_ _  
>  _ _In a blink of an eye and be gone from me_ _  
>  _ _Soft and sweet_ _  
>  _ _Let me hold it close and keep it here with me_
> 
> _  
>  _ _And one day we will die_ _  
>  _ _And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea_ _  
>  _ _But for now we are young_ _  
>  _ _Let us lay in the sun_ _  
>  _ _And count every beautiful thing we can see_ _  
>  _ _Love to be_ _  
>  _ _In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me_

 

**The Mountain Goats - Dilaudid**

 

> _The reception's gotten fuzzy_ _  
>  _ _The delicate balance has shifted_ _  
>  _ _Put on your gloves and your black pumps_ _  
>  _ _Let's pretend the fog has lifted_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Now you see me_ _  
>  _ _Now you don't_ _  
>  _ _Now you say you love me_ _  
>  _ _Pretty soon you won't_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _If we get our full three-score and ten_ _  
>  _ _We won't pass this way again_ _  
>  _ _So kiss me with your mouth open_ _  
>  _ _Turn the tires toward the street and stay sweet_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _All the chickens come on home to roost_ _  
>  _ _Plump bodies blotting out the sky_ _  
>  _ _You know it breaks my heart in half, in half_ _  
>  _ _When I see them try to fly_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _'Cause you just can't do_ _  
>  _ _Things your body wasn't meant to_ _  
>  _ _Hike up your fishnets_ _  
>  _ _I know you_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _If we live to see the other side of this_ _  
>  _ _I will remember your kiss_ _  
>  _ _So do it with your mouth open_ _  
>  _ _And take your foot off of the brake, for Christ's sake!_

 

**Fall Out Boy - Hold Me Tight or Don’t**

 

> _I never really feel a thing_ _  
>  _ _I'm just kinda too frozen_ _  
>  _ _You were the only one_ _  
>  _ _That even kinda came close_ _  
>  _ _I just pinch myself_ _  
>  _ _No longer comatose_ _  
>  _ _I woke up, no luck_ _  
>  _ _I woke up, no luck_
> 
> _  
>  _ _And when your stitch comes loose_ _  
>  _ _I wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz_ _  
>  _ _And stuffing that comes out of you, you_ _  
>  _ _I took too many hits off this memory_ _  
>  _ _I need to come down_
> 
> _  
>  _ _Another day goes by_ _  
>  _ _So hold me tight_ _  
>  _ _Hold me tight, or don't_ _  
>  _ _Oh no, no this isn't how our story ends_ _  
>  _ _So hold me tight_ _  
>  _ _Hold me tight, or don't_ _  
>    
>  _

 

**The Mountain Goats - How to Embrace a Swamp Creature**

 

> _Got out of bed, could not remember my own name_ _  
>  _ _Condemned to walk the soil amongst all creatures wild and tame_ _  
>  _ _Go where I go, do what I must_ _  
>  _ _Crawl, starving, on my belly, licking up the dry dust_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I see the light in your window_ _  
>  _ _Ride the elevator to the sixth floor_ _  
>  _ _Stand with my arms at my sides_ _  
>  _ _As you open up the door_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _But I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_ _  
>  _ _I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Alone with your bathroom mirror, try to get my head straight_ _  
>  _ _Breathe on the glass and wait for it to clear, clean slate_ _  
>  _ _Meet up with you in the kitchen where the air is hot and dry_ _  
>  _ _Open up all the faucets, be fruitful and multiply_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I stand where_ _  
>  _ _The flashing swords gleam_ _  
>  _ _And I try to shake my head_ _  
>  _ _Clear of the dream_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _But I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_ _  
>  _ _I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I start to sweat, I can't cool down_ _  
>  _ _I'm scared of all the strangers in this town_ _  
>  _ _I try to tell you just why I've come_ _  
>  _ _It's like I've got molasses on my tongue_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I made it through town somehow_ _  
>  _ _But who's gonna save me now?_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_ _  
>  _ _I'm out of my element_ _  
>  _ _I can't breathe_

 

**Passion Pit - The Reeling**

 

> _we dug these holes we crawled into now they're my home_ _  
>  _ _now here I cannot feel the wind, can’t feel the rain oh no_ _  
>  _ _and I believe in gentle harmony_ _  
>  _ _well how I loathe all this obscenity_ _  
>  _ _is this the way my life has got to be?_ _  
>  _ _have I a single opportunity?_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _look at me oh look at me is this the way I'll always be_ _  
>  _ _oh no, oh no_ _  
>  _ _now I pray that somebody will quickly come and kidnap me_ _  
>  _ _oh no, oh no_ _  
>  _ _everyday I lie awake and pray to god today's the day_ _  
>  _ _oh no, oh no_ _  
>  _ _here I am oh here I am oh when will someone understand?_ _  
>  _ _oh no, oh no_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _and all at once I feel this, oh how it clings to me_ _  
>  _ _it reels and calls me towards it, confounding destiny_ _  
>  _ _and I can feel the madness inch by inch_ _  
>  _ _the more I run the more I am convinced_ _  
>  _ _a color all these like the branches glimpse_ _  
>  _ _just like the saddle in the foggy mist_

 

**Fall Out Boy - 7 Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)**

 

> _I'm sitting out dances on the wall_ _  
>  _ _Trying to forget everything that isn't you_ _  
>  _ _I'm not going home alone_ _  
>  _ _Cause I don't do too well on my own_
> 
> _  
>  _ _The only thing worse than not knowing_ _  
>  _ _Is you thinking that I don't know_ _  
>  _ _I'm having another episode_ _  
>  _ _I just need a stronger dose_
> 
> _  
>  _ _I keep telling myself_ _  
>  _ _I keep telling myself_ _  
>  _ _I'm not the desperate type_ _  
>  _ _But you've got me looking in through blinds_

 

**The Mountain Goats - Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1**

 

> _Do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive_ _  
>  _ _Do every stupid thing to try to drive the dark away_ _  
>  _ _Let people call you crazy for the choices that you make_ _  
>  _ _Climb limits past the limits_ _  
>  _ _Jump in front of trains all day_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _And stay alive_ _  
>  _ _Just stay alive_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Play with matches if you think you need to play with matches_ _  
>  _ _Seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright_ _  
>  _ _Find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to_ _  
>  _ _Don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _And stay alive_ _  
>  _ _Just stay alive_

 

**Andrew Bird - Near Death Experience Experience**

 

> _You used to be like copper -_ _  
>  _ _Pliable but strong,_ _  
>  _ _You used to smile and nod, say "you're right," be polite,_ _  
>  _ _When you know that everybody's wrong._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _So you dare the plane to crash,_ _  
>  _ _redeem the miles for cash when it starts to dive_ _  
>  _ _And we'll dance like cancer survivors -_ _  
>  _ _like we're grateful simply to be alive._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Dare the plane to crash,_ _  
>  _ _redeem the miles for cash_ _  
>  _ _And we'll dance like cancer survivors -_ _  
>  _ _like your prognosis was that you should've died._

 

**Motion City Soundtrack - Everything is Alright**

 

> _Give me a reason to end this discussion,_ _  
>  _ _To break with tradition._ _  
>  _ _To fold and divide._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Cause I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes,_ _  
>  _ _Talking with strangers, waiting in line..._ _  
>  _ _I'm through with these pills that make me sit still._ _  
>  _ _"Are you feeling fine?"_ _  
>  _ _Yes, I feel just fine._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Tell me that you're alright,_ _  
>  _ _Yeah everything is alright._ _  
>  _ _Oh please tell me that you're alright,_ _  
>  _ _Yeah everything is alright._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I'm sick of the things I do when I'm nervous_ _  
>  _ _Like cleaning the oven or checking my tires_ _  
>  _ _Or counting the number of tiles in the ceiling..._ _  
>  _ _Head for the hills, the kitchen's on fire!_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I used to rely on self-medication,_ _  
>  _ _I guess I still do that from time to time._ _  
>  _ _But I'm getting better at fighting the future,_ _  
>  _ _"Someday you'll be fine..."_ _  
>  _ _Yes, I'll be just fine._

 

**Marian Hill - I Want You**

 

> _Don't make me play this game_ _  
>  _ _Don't have the time to waste_ _  
>  _ _Don't need to read my mind_ _  
>  _ _'Cause I'll just tell you straight_ _  
>  _ _Why don't you show me 'round?_ _  
>  _ _And I can show you off_ _  
>  _ _And if we're not too careful_ _  
>  _ _Baby we can both get lost_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I've been so tired on the weekend_ _  
>  _ _I've been holding on too tight_ _  
>  _ _I never thought I'd be thinking_ _  
>  _ _"I want-"_ _  
>  _ _I spent the whole summer sleeping_ _  
>  _ _You've been staying up all night_ _  
>  _ _I never thought I'd be thinking_ _  
>  _ _"I want you"_

 

**Chaos Chaos - Do You Feel It?**

 

> _Do you feel it, do you feel it?_ _  
>  _ _Do you feel that I can see your soul?_ _  
>  _ _Do you feel it, do you feel it?_ _  
>  _ _Do you feel the beat in your heart?_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I-I want it, I want it real_ _  
>  _ _Run away with me now_ _  
>  _ _I-I want it, I want it real_ _  
>  _ _Run away with me now_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Drinking in the summer, I'm good at running_ _  
>  _ _I beat you in the race again_ _  
>  _ _Are you afraid, when I look your way_ _  
>  _ _It's easiest to stay at home_ _  
>  _ _But then we taste it, we got to have it_ _  
>  _ _We have no control_ _  
>  _ _Where is the love, the kind we dream of_ _  
>  _ _The kind that makes us young_ _  
>  _ _The kind that makes us young_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Don't leave me_ _  
>  _ _Never leave me out_

 

**Phantogram - You Don’t Get Me High Anymore**

 

> _Walk with me to the end_ _  
>  _ _Stare with me into the abyss_ _  
>  _ _Do you feel like letting go?_ _  
>  _ _I wonder how far down it is_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Nothing is fun_ _  
>  _ _Not like before_ _  
>  _ _You don't get me high anymore_ _  
>    
>  _

**PVRIS - Anyone Else**

 

> _Oh my blood_ _  
>  _ _Once was my own_ _  
>  _ _But in one touch_ _  
>  _ _You made it yours_ _  
>  _ _What have you done?_ _  
>  _ _What have you done?_ _  
>  _ _Yeah I know I went and left you all alone_ _  
>  _ _Please don't think that I let you go_ _  
>  _ _I'll never let go_ _  
>  _ _'Cause I could touch a hundred thousand souls_ _  
>  _ _But none of them would ever feel like home_ _  
>  _ _And no matter how far and wide I roam_ _  
>  _ _You are the only one that I'll ever know_ _  
>  _ _I don't belong to anyone else_ _  
>  _ _I don't belong to anyone else_

 

**Stars - Privilege**

 

> _Crawling in the street made me believe you_ _  
>  _ _The little time you left, wanted to keep you_ _  
>  _ _A dreamer never dies, don't stop believing_ _  
>  _ _Cut a heart in half can't stop the beating_ _  
>  _ _Never got what you want, never got what you want, never got it_ _  
>  _ _Never got what you want, never got what you want, never got it_ _  
>  _ _Caught up in the twist of fake decisions_ _  
>  _ _The reasons and the thoughts fill up your dreams well_ _  
>  _ _The pictures on the screen tells lives are higher_ _  
>  _ _But that voice inside your head is such a liar_

 

**of Montreal - Gallery Piece**

 

> _I wanna be your love_ _  
>  _ _I wanna make you cry_ _  
>  _ _And sweep you off your feet_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna hurt your pride_ _  
>  _ _I wanna slap your face_ _  
>  _ _I wanna paint your nails_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna make you you scream_ _  
>  _ _I wanna braid your hair_ _  
>  _ _I wanna kiss your friends_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna make you laugh_ _  
>  _ _I wanna dress the same_ _  
>  _ _I wanna defend you_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna squeeze your thighs_ _  
>  _ _I wanna kiss your eyelids_ _  
>  _ _And corrupt your dreams_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna crash your car_ _  
>  _ _I wanna scratch your cheeks_ _  
>  _ _I wanna make you sick_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna sell you out_ _  
>  _ _Want to expose your flaws_ _  
>  _ _I wanna steal your things_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna show you off_ _  
>  _ _I wanna tell you lies_ _  
>  _ _I wanna write you books_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna turn you on_ _  
>  _ _I wanna make you cum_ _  
>  _ _Two-hundred times a day_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna dry your tears_ _  
>  _ _Every time you're sad_ _  
>  _ _I wanna be your what's happening_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I wanna be your only friend_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I only go all the way_ _  
>  _ _This time I'm not pretending_ _  
>  _ _..._ _  
>  _ _They're monitoring my subconscious massacres I know_ _  
>  _ _Bringing it closer to the surface so it's easily pervertible_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I want to be a beast_ _  
>  _ _I want to make you proud_ _  
>  _ _And play with your head_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I want to take you out_ _  
>  _ _Make you feel adored_ _  
>  _ _And buy you everything_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I want to hurt you bad_ _  
>  _ _Make you paranoid_ _  
>  _ _And say the sweetest things_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _I want to help you grow_ _  
>  _ _And for eternity_ _  
>  _ _I want to be your what's happening_

 

**CHVRCHES - Do I Wanna Know?**

 

> _So have you got the guts?_
> 
> _Been wondering if your heart's still open and_
> 
> _If so I wanna know what time it shuts_
> 
> _Simmer down and pucker up_
> 
> _I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly_
> 
> _On the cusp of trying to kiss you_
> 
> _I don't know if you feel the same as I do_
> 
> _But we could be together, if you wanted to_

 

**Frank Turner - Recovery**

 

> _If you could just give me a sign, just a subtle little glimmer._ _  
>  _ _Some suggestion that you'd have me if I could only make me better._ _  
>  _ _Then I would stand a little stronger as I walk a little taller, all the time._ _  
>  _ _Because I know you are a cynic but I think I can convince you._ _  
>  _ _Yeah, cause broken people can get better if they really want to._ _  
>  _ _Or at least that's what I have to tell myself if I am hoping to survive!_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _It's a long road up to recovery from here, a long way back to the light._ _  
>  _ _A long road up to recovery from here, a long way to making it right._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _So darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_ _  
>  _ _Darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_ _  
>  _ _Darling, sweet lover, won't you help me to recover,_ _  
>  _ _Darling, sweet lover, one day this will all be over._


End file.
